The Forgotten
by rogermein
Summary: A sequel to The Enemy's Hand.  Revan has been deemed excommunicate, taken by a mysterious benefactor who needs his skills.  His involvement in a world on the Outer Rim could have dire ramifications to the upcoming war as well as his own future.
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

_Author's notes: Usual disclaimers. I don't own any Star Wars characters. Anybody besides Revan and a certain other character is thought up by me. If it clashes with any cannon I'm not aware of or future ones, sorry. This is purely for my own recreation. This is a sequel to the Enemy's Hand. If you haven't read the previous two stories, it probably won't make much sense to you. I also won't be updating nearly as quickly as in my two other stories. But as always, constructive user feedback is appreciated.  
_

* * *

Dramatis Personae

Revan - Jedi Knight (excommunicated)

The Watcher - Overseer

Darth Malleus: Sith Lord - Reborn, The Butcher, Corrupter of Souls

Darth Victus - Reborn, The Weeper

Lucidae - Jedi Master (excommunicated)

T'shere - Commander of Aethon Cell

Mysteel - Member of Aethon Cell

Kynes - Sniper

Arctet - Member of Aethon Cell

Thalia - Mysteel's mother

Reeka the Hutt: Criminal Overlord of Darith

Racquile: Reeka's Bodyguard

Seratheem: Reeka's Personal Attendant

Matarl: Reeka's Henchman

Bandor: Reeka's Henchman

* * *

(Prologue)

(3967 BBY)

Matarl walked nervously behind his guide down the narrow corridor. The ship was excessively dark, with only pale red orbs illuminating his feet every few meters. The Twi'lek or 'Rutian' as his subspecies was called was sweating profusely and not from the excessive heat and rank air around him. He had arrived on the Sith ship _Carrion_ for only five minutes and already regretted ever stepping onboard.

Simply put, it was a labrynth of corridors with no discernable architecture. He had already lost all his bearings and without his guide it would have been a hopeless task of navigation. The Rutian did not get the sense he was walking within the confines of a cold metal vessel but rather in the bowels of a living, breathing beast. It was like he was trapped in one of the monster's giant organs. Even the walls seemed to be alive, pulsing with an oily sheen.

_Is that...blood on the bulkheads?_ Wondered the agent. It was hard to tell, since everything around him was bathed in the same red light.

Distantly, he could hear what he thought was a buzzing sound, followed by the screams echoing down the hallway. It sounded like someone was hacking off limbs while their victims were still alive. Matarl had heard all sorts of stories about these Sith, their savagery, their malice. But even among their wretched kind, the _Cult of the Reborn_ stood out above the rest in invoking sheer horror and fear. Theirs was a depraved fraternity, immersed in all form of bloody rituals and hedonistic practices. Some of the things Matarl heard they had done were too horrifying to give credence to.

But having been on board their ship, he was beginning to doubt those doubts. Still their reputation was one of the reasons his master Reeka had sought them out. The gigantic bloated worm had recently cut a deal to receive an incredibly powerful weapon that he was planning to auction off. The Hutt believed these ...individuals would pay good money for something that had such destructive potential.

One did not simply court the attention of the Sith Lords however. It was somewhat of a miracle that they had even deigned to answer the Hutt's hails. Still these were Sith and their behavior was erratic at the best of times. Therefore Matarl had been sent as an…emissary to gauge their interest. That and he was expendable…another faceless grunt amongst the millions that milled about Darith's streets. The Rutian was under no illusion that Reeka would send another dozen soldiers to this ship if he wasn't heard from again.

_Make sure the Sith Lord is properly…informed about the nature of this weapon. It will appeal to his sense of humor…_Reeka had gurgled to his informant before sending him off to this unpleasant mission. Matarl hated the orders as much as he hated the bloated slug. If certain things had been different in his life, he could have just been as easily sabotaging the Hutt's plans instead of helping him.

The Twi'lek was mulling over his fate when his guide spoke.

"A word of advice," said the figure in front of him him, breaking the silence.

"W-what?" The noise startled him. Beyond the initial encounter, the guide had not said two words to him and with his cowled hood, Matarl never got a good look at his face. At least the Rutian thought it was a he. His formless robes and queerly androgynous voice made it difficult to be certain.

"Don't look at Lord Malleus' face." Cautioned the dark hooded figure. He had a sly tone to his voice "The experience is…unpleasant to those who have not seen the true path."

Matarl had no idea what that meant but nodded in mute reply. The sooner he was done dealing with these debauched creatures, the better. As they continued to walk through the dim corridor, Matarl could hear wet crunching sounds in the doors around them, accompanied by the occasional snarl and grunt. By the savagery of the noises, he doubted it was livestock.

_Beasts of burden?_

"What kind of animals do you keep around here?" asked the Twi'lek nervously. The sounds were quite disconcerting.

"Animals?" echoed his guide stopping momentarily. There was a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"You're feeding something right now aren't you?"

The other man gave a curious noise between a chuckle and a hiss.

"Our aspirants are eating right now as is my Lord" replied the guide simply. The words chilled the Rutian's blood.

_Holy…_

Matarl couldn't fathom what sort of monsters these Sith recruit into their ranks but if their eating habits were any indication, they must be pretty awful. The Rutian's dark eyes couldn't pierce the guide's dark cowl but he could tell the Sith was enjoying his sudden distress. He hastily tried to change the subject, forcing his voice to be nonchalant.

"What's your name anyways?"

"Mine?" replied the guide in mock surprise. He always sounded amused, like he was privy to a joke know one else understood. "I was once known as Victus…but most who know me well call me the Weeper."

"Why?"

"You don't want to know." Something in the man's tone made Matarl stomach queezy. He decided not to try and ask anymore questions. The guide resumed his purposeful strides down the corridor.

"This way,"

After a few more minutes of walking through the maze like corridors, the pair approached a set of iron blast doors.

"We are here." Said Victus quietly. "My Lord is feasting in the banquet hall at this moment…but I am sure he will deign to entertain an ambassador from someone as august as Reeka the Hutt." The voice was mocking as he said the words and Matarl felt a surge of anger at the insult. He wanted to make a colorful epithet concerning their hygiene but decided it would be suicidal so he simply glared at the other man. Without further ceremony the guide pushed the heavy metal doors open. The cold rush of air immediately greeted Matarl and for some reason he felt like he was about to enter a mausoleum.

The sound of a crunching meat welcomed them as the Twi'lek was led into the mouth of chilly room. It was even darker in here than in the corridors, light seeming abhorrent to these Sith. Matarl squinted in the darkness and he could make out what seemed to be a scarecrow figure sitting at the end of a long rectangular stone table a dozen feet away. From this distance, he couldn't see his face but Matarl could tell the Sith Lord was gorging on a bloody pile of meat. Another huge platter of it was piled up on the center of the table. From his vantage point, Matarl couldn't tell what kind of flesh Malleus was devouring and had no desire to know.

"Wait here" commanded Victus before approaching his master.

This diner paid no attention to the new arrivals and continued ravenously with the food in front of him. Matarl took a morbid fascination to his eating habit. Pieces of bone were cracked apart by sharp long fingers as the diner sucked the marrow out of them and chewed at the lechy strings of flesh attached. Not a creature of etiquette, he made disgusting slurping noises while he feasted, the sounds more akin to a savage beast.

"Reborn." The guide murmured. Matarl saw him prostrate himself in front of his living god. The Twi'lek wondered if he was supposed to do that later as well. The one who he had addressed as Reborn stopped devouring his meal long enough to turn his head around. Matarl still could not see his face in the dark shadows but he knew for a certainty the Sith Lord was looking at in his general direction. For some reason when the Sith Lord put his scrutiny on him, the Twi'lek felt an overwhelming urge to kneel.

"Speak..." The dark figure gurgled. The command was spoken with a hissing lisp. Even from this distance he could hear the weight of command in his in tone.

"We have the visitor."

The Sith Lord paused at that piece of news then started tearing into another haunch of bloody meat again, gnashing his teeth together. It dribbled down his chin back onto his plate.

"The man comes on behalf of Reeka the Hutt, master of Darith"

At those words, the monster looked up from his meal.

"Darith has no Master," the thing whispered quietly. "It is simply a world, fashioned in our image."

The other Sith corrected his error hastily. "Forgive me Lord, I meant Reeka is the self proclaimed leader, which is recognized by the crime lords on that world. The Twi'lek here is sent on his behalf to discuss a potential...event."

From Victus' tone, there seemed to be a hidden connotation behind those words that Matarl didn't know about. He shuffled uneasily.

The diner turned back to his meal, apparently disinterested with this piece of news.

"Should I allow him to speak my master?" Inquired his subordinate his head still on the floor.

The Sith Lord did not say anything but turned one of his lidless eyes back at the speaker while he ate.

"Bring...him…closer." said the Sith Lord before returning to his meal.

"Your will Lord Malleus."

With haste, the guide turned back and grabbed the surprised Twi'lek with a bony arm. The informant was startled by the sudden strength the guide exhibited.

"Let me go!" Snarled Matarl. He struggled uselessly as his escort dragged him bodily across the floor. The bony arm had locked him into painful grip, the dirty nails digging into him painfully. If he took the time to look, Matarl would have noticed that they were missing patches of skin. The informant cursed liberally as he was dragged like a witless child to stand within a few feet of the Corrupter of Souls.

"Abase yourself!" Victus snarled. The hooded figure kicked the Twi'lek onto the floor. Matarl glared up defiantly and instantly wished he hadn't.

When the Twi'lek saw the legend of Darith up close, he stopped his struggles. Malleus Sith Lord, Butcher of Darith was truly horror to behold. The flesh on his head was palsied and rotting with liberal patches of bone showing. Parts of his skin was missing and he breathed through a bloody hole filled with dark mucus. There was virtually no flesh to call lips, and a great deal of the bone above and the jaw showed through his hideously gory teeth.

As best as Matarl could tell, Malleus was a human, but that might have been a grave insult to anybody actually belonging to their species. The man's mouth was locked into a rictus grin, the muscles on either side of his jaw having long rotted away, leaving only strands of flesh to support the lower jaw. The visage was made even more hideous by the meat stuck between his teeth. It was somewhat of a miracle this shambling mound of flesh was still alive, attributed somewhat to the Sith Lord's divinity

Matarl retched then, a thin spew of acidic bile pouring through his mouth.

Even after he finished gagging, the informant didn't dare to raise his head up lest he look into that horrid face again.

The Sith Lord continued eating as if nothing happened, like he wasn't there. It was clear Malleus was waiting for the informant to say something useful. After several agonizing minutes, the Twi'lek finally found the nerve to speak.

"Lord Malleus." He stuttered in galactic standard. "Reeka, lord of Darith, sends his respects. When your ship was reported seen in orbit, my master sent me...to inform you of an upcoming auction he is holding for the most powerful individuals within this sector. In recognition of your...efforts within the past, Reeka has bade me to extend a personal invitation for you to attend. He believes one of the items will be of particular...interest to you."

Again the Sith Lord made no reaction to this piece of news. The Twi'lek exhaled nervously, unsure of whether the Sith Lord could even hear him. Without looking up he took a data slate from his jacket.

"To show you the veracity of my master's words, I have been ordered to show you a visual recording of what this item is and does."

He held up the data slate plaintively, hoping someone would take it off his hands.

Malleus looked up from his macabre feasting. With a wordless flick of his hand, the disk was ripped away from Matarl's hand and into his bony grasp. For many minutes, Malleus regarded the recording without comment. Matarl had no idea what Malleus was thinking as his hideous expression did not change. At one point Matarl's keen hearing caught a muttered phrase.

"...is this how…the path will unfold?"

After what seemed like an eternity, the Sith Lord placed the slate next to his bloody plate. He raised his unblinking eyes towards the Twi'lek. Matarl tensed as he felt the other-worldly presence settle upon him. Malleus continued his musings.

"Wait…I am missing something…I am not seeing…the whole vision"

Matarl dared to raise his head fractionally at these strange words and to his utter surprise, the Sith Lord was suddenly there next to him, leering down. Truly, this ...thing was the epitome of fear itself. Matarl had never seen something so hideous...yet powerful. Malleus gripped the alien's aqua lime head with a cold metallic hand. The contact sent death shivers up the Twi'lek's spine as the death specter leaned in millimeters from his face. Behind the blood red eyes, Matarl could see the insanity...the burning hatred.

Matarl did his best not to breath, the rank smell of rotting meat almost unbearable.

"M-My Lord!" gasped Matarl. He fought the urge to hurl into the disgusting face.

Malleus didn't seem to hear his words, instead he brought his horrid scrutiny closer, the heat almost unbearable. The agent was paralyzed, partly in fear but mostly because he had forgotten how to control the rest of his body.

"You…I sensed something…you are the source"

There was a sudden tugging sensation in the back of the Twi'lek's mind then. Matarl sensed the violation, like sharp tendrils intruding into his grey matter. At that moment he experienced the awesome power of the Corruptor, like a scorching heat of the sun. It was like an ant standing against the might of a hive queen, his will threatening to utterly consume him. No thought or experience was hidden from the Sith Lord, his entire being laid bare for his scrutiny.

This lasted for several agonizing seconds before Malleus withdrew his death grip on the poor informant. The Twi'lek collapsed on the floor, gasping for air. Through the haze of pain, he heard a queer wheezing sound. Like air squeezing through a broken pipe.

Matarl after a moment realized what the sound was.

It was laughter.

"_Hahahahahaha."_ The Sith Lord's skeleton frame trembled like a rumbling earthquake, his gaunt form shaking the ebony floor with his violent trembling. "I see it…yes…the strands of fate have woven. The path is clear…"

Matarl had no idea what the words meant and his head still rang painfully from the jarring laughter of the Sith Lord.

"Lucidae...after all this time. I will take back that which is rightfully mine."

_How...How does he know that name? _Wondered Matarl. _From my mind? Or did he always know?_

The Sith Lord turned his head fractionally to look at Victus.

"This one is part of the whole…he will help complete our works."

Victus seemed surprised at those words. "Truly Lord? Has the time come already?"

"Yes…the hand of synchronicity is upon us. I knew at the bottom of my core that I had to return here…and I thought it was for the war and possibly to gather new meat."

"Is it not?" inquired Victus curiously.

"Ultimately…it will be. But before that, before one cycle can begin anew, I must finish the first." There was a moment's silence. Victus posture gradually became more relaxed, as if he came to a sudden understanding with his Master.

The Sith Lord turned his attention back to Matarl breathed a single word through his frozen features.

"Where?"

The Twi'lek took in a gasp of air. "My- my master has not set a proper location and date yet! He only said it would be soon. If-if your eminence is interested, you can send a delegation to Darith to finalize the details."

After a long period of tense silence, Matarl managed to venture a question of his own. "My Lord...is pleased? Shall I inform my master that you wish to send a..a..response of your own?"

The Sith Lord's posture became more relaxed suddenly. "Of course. I shall send Victus as my…emissary."

He assumed a thoughtful pose then, his bloody claw brushing the tip of his chin

"But I am being discourteous. You look tired...and ill fed. Perhaps you would care to share my meal?"

Matarl couldn't think of anything less that he wanted to do at that moment. He knew it would be close to suicide to deny this madman but he tried anyways.

"You are too kind, my Lord, but I am quite…"

"I insist," replied Malleus in hissing rasp. The Sith Lord continued to wheeze through his ragged hole as he forcefully hauled the Twi'lek to the table and into his chair. Matarl closed his eyes refusing to look at the bloody contents on the huge plate on the table. He didn't want to know what it could be.

"Eat." The Sith Lord commanded. His voice held the undercurrent of a threat.

Without looking, the Twi'lek hesitantly took the carving knife next to the plate and stabbed the huge haunch of bloody meat Malleus had been carving through. He took a thin sliver that had not been abused by the man's gnashing teeth and put it into his mouth. The Twi'lek took a deep breath and chewed.

It tasted raw and bloody, the sensation horrible but undeniably potent. The Twi'lek forced himself to swallow and he felt a heady sense of dizziness even as the juices trickling down his chin.

Malleus simply stared at the Rutian with that hideous grin. He got the distinct sense the Sith Lord was amused.

"Is it good?"

"Very my Lord..." replied Matarl hastily, covering his mouth so he wouldn't spit out the contents of his stomach again.

Malleus regarded him with almost clinical detachment as if waiting for something to happen. As he continued to eat, Matarl felt his vision swimming. He tried to focus on something that wasn't the gore fest on the table. The agent looked wildly at the walls then, at the far corner of the room. Those dark bloody walls…with their hundred faces screaming back at him.

The Twi'lek paused as the he processed that thought.

_That couldn't be right. Since when does a wall have faces?_

Matarl stared, blinking rapidly. He realized he wasn't seeing things.

It was...a wall... A wall of flesh. The skin of the dead were literally stitched together in a hideous banner, their expressions all of endless torment. And right now, they were screaming in agony as he stared at them.

Noticing Matarl's quavering form, Victus gave a cruel smile.

"I see you've noticed the _Wall of Remembrance_. A fitting piece of art, wouldn't you agree?"

Matarl's lips trembled. "What…how?"

"Some are trophies of mine," answered Malleus quietly. "Others have a more…practical purpose." He gestured vaguely at his own face. "I'm afraid I'm not as spry as I use to be,"

The two Sith Lord shared a sickening chortle at that. The bile was building up in Matarl's throat again. He desperately tried to change the subject.

"If I may ask…what kind of meat is this? Bantha?"

The Sith Lord's seemed amused at Matarl's suggestion, although it was hard to tell based on his feral expression.

"No, I prefer a...higher quality of meat."

"Some exotic bird perhaps?"

"Look up," commanded Malleus.

Without thought, the Twi'lek found his head jerking upwards from his gaze at the table. He was looking at the huge serving platter where Malleus took his servings. He caught sight of what looked like a leg. It was hairless, probably belonging to a mammal of some sort, the flesh pale and pink. For some reason Matarl felt a tightening in his stomach.

"You must really try a hand. I find the appendages most delectable," continued the Sith Lord as if nothing was amiss.

_Hand?_

The Twi'lek forced himself to focus on some of the smaller appendages on the serving plate. He saw the hands Malleus was referring to...they had opposable thumbs.

That sick feeling started swelling up in his gut. At that moment, the Rutian was beginning to understand what he was looking at

_No…No!_

With eyes bright in fear, Matarl noticed the crowning centerpiece at the top of the platter.

It was a human head, the eyeballs gouged out but the face still maintained the effigy of horror.

The Twi'lek stood up back up in revulsion, knocking the chair down.

"_What...what the hell is this?_" Matarl shrieked. He tried to spit out the blood from his mouth.

"A former follower of mine." Replied Malleus calmly. He swept up to the platter and grabbed one of the appendages. The Sith Lord began to chew on it mechanically, peeling the skin off like a delicate morsel. "One of my former aspirants to be precise. Those that fail to be reborn under the guidance from the _Book of Revelations _are beasts only fit to be used as meat. We treat them accordingly."

The Twi'lek retched all over again, the sense of nausea and disgust overpowering his senses. Then he tried to bolt through the door. He didn't make it four paces when he was accosted by his guide.

"Not so fast."

When Matarl turned around he saw that Victus had removed his cowl so he could see him clearly for the first time as well. The guide's smile mimicked Malleus own. But what terrified Matarl beyond all his senses were the eyes.

They weren't eyes at all, just black orifices weeping a tar-like substance. It oozed like excrement sliding down his bony cheeks, a mockery of tears.

The Twi'lek lost control of his bowels then, the smell wafting up to mix with the thick stench of death and blood. He continued to scream hysterically.

"Weeper." Said Malleus calmly, his voice carrying clearly through the din. "Take our guest back to the planet and see to the arrangements. Remember the path."

"Of course my Lord," grinned Victus. With a shallow bow he hauled the terrified Twi'lek still screaming out of the tiny portion of hell Malleus had created.

* * *

_Author's note: If you want to get a better idea of what Malleus (and by extension any of his subordinates) look like, go to rogermein1 (dot) deviantart (dot) com_


	2. Chapter 2 The Setup

_I used to think I knew how the galaxy worked. _

_That I had a contingency for every scenario, an answer for everything._

_I was so full of piss back then._

_-Revan_

_

* * *

(4 days ago)  
_

"_Where are we?" asked the Jedi._

_"Darith." Proclaimed the dark figure. It sounded more like a curse than a name. The tall foreboding figure kept his face hidden in a cowl blacker than sin as he said this, the only illumination being two spots of white where eyes should have been. _

_Revan, who was gazing into the blighted landscape in front of him could agree with that sentiment. If there was one word to describe this world, it was that it looked...bleak._

_They were standing within a huge slum, a dreary land of crumbling black brickwork that seemed to stretch whole continents on this wretched planet. The tall and once noble looking spires around them were now dark and foreboding, obscured by the thick grey smog that clung in the atmosphere like a miasma of despair. Many of them were actually leaning to one side, bent under the weight of age. These distant structures resembled gigantic behemoths, huge predators encircling their wretched victims. All looked on the verge of collapsing. _

_Disease and decay plagued the land like sickness plagued a dying man. Every corner they turned, Revan could see victims of different ailment lying on the floor, a Twi'lek beggar here, a corpse there. They protruded from the ground like slimy decaying pustules. This city possessed a hostility and sense of malice in the very air they breathed._

_"Exactly two hundred point three years ago, this was a relatively prosperous world. A frontier colony of the Republic braving the Outer Rim. It was meant to symbolize their might, a beacon of hope in a largely lawless and chaotic portion of the galaxy. Probability dictates that their hubris be punished."_

_"How did it come to this?"_

_"How does any world fall from grace? War and disease. A great conflict was fought here. Pirates and aliens led by Sith faction designated as the Cult of the Reborn descended upon this world in one fell swoop, united in their purpose long enough to bring this thriving metropolis down. The Republic forces responded in their natural fashion, by bringing their armies and Jedi to cleanse the world."_

_They turned another corner, walking into what was a relatively crowded street. Shambling, emancipated aliens walked around them without any apparent direction, lost souls content to wander aimlessly in this self made purgatory. In contrast to the dying populace, groups of hulking black figures marched in swaggering groups, heavily armed and threatening. These were the social elite so to speak, mercenaries and pirates who thrived in such a hostile environment. In a relatively empty corner, Revan glimpsed a pair of savage animals he did not recognize defiling a child's corpse with long snouted jaws. They made wet crunching noises as they sucked on the victim's bone marrow. No one seemed to care. Neither did the Watcher who continued with his tale like a droid would give a finance report._

_"But like a cancer, the enemy could not be removed without causing irreparable damage to the body. They entrenched themselves into the cities, taking hostages and strategic locations. The Republic was forced to fight in the streets, in dark alleyways and in the sewers themselves. And the enemy preyed upon them like carrion beasts, striking from the shadows, ruining whole cities rather than letting them be taken back whole. Constant orbital bombing and nuclear warfare has left this planet a shadow of its former glory. In the end the Republic forces were soundly defeated, and worse, they had left a devastating fallout. Its civilization was torn down, and what remained of the inhabitants were enslaved and sold off. The only thing left were the carrion remains, a veritable breeding ground for the pirates and mercenaries that call this place their home in the present."_

_As they walked, Revan noticed their passing was largely ignored by the dead eyed populace. They could have been invisible for all the attention the inhabitants gave them. Some of the mercenaries though gave them hostiles stares, sensing their unnatural presence. _

_"Now, it is a hive of scum and villainy ruled by the slimy, grasping hands of the Hutts." The Watcher gave a billowing exhale of air from his artificial organs. It sounded like different gears were grinding together to approximate the effect. _

"_We are walking in what is now known as the Blood District" _

_At first Revan was going to ask why it was called that but he realized the answer suddenly. The bricks, tiles and pavements…they were all soaked in the blood of its previous inhabitants. Death occurred here so often that it had literally soaked into the marrow of the city itself. If he looked closely enough, Revan realized that his surroundings were not simply a dull, unhealthy grey, but included a smoky red hue. Darith was painted in blood. _

_The Jedi folded his arms and looked out into the desecration around him as the Watcher spoke. It was not a reassuring sight. _

_"Why have you brought me here?" Revan asked eventually._

_The Watcher stopped walking then and looked at him with his unreadable expression. _

_"You are here...because She has foreseen what can happen. What needs to happen if the Republic will live to see the next millennia. Within the infinite avenues of possibilities, this narrow path alone can deliver our salvation. You should know by now that there is no such thing as chance, that everything happens for a reason...a purpose. While there are almost an infinite possible ways that the future can unfold, only one will become reality. And seeds that are sown today may come into fruition years, decades or centuries from now, to make that one path a reality. And by her will, this path we embark on now will become a reality. It is written."_

_It was hard to argue with the Watcher at that moment. This man…if the term could be used was a person of contradictions. In the short time since they were acquainted, Revan discovered he was more machine than organic. He had seen snaking coils winding through his clothes, supplying nutrients into his emancipated body. Once he had glimpsed the back of his skull, which ended in a myriad of sockets for external data feeds. The Watcher was as cold and calculating as the starboard computer of a warship and just as precise._

_And yet…this unfeeling thing claimed to believe in a higher power. Something that shaped and skewed fate in their favor. The Watcher had told him of …Her. Revan had always felt something had been watching him ever since returning from Chiron. He had felt it in the Jedi Temple. At Solace. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt now that she had reached out to him in his catatonic state when he was near death. She was the reason he was still alive after all these trials. Because she willed it. Truly fate was a tangible thing when someone could reach out and move constellations. Still Revan was unconvinced._

_"and yet, she needs me to make this reality true."_

_The Watcher's voice was only a whisker above a his usual metallic drone. _

_"Of course. We are all cogs in the greater tapestry of the universe, even as the future unravels to the present. You were chosen to help because she knows your fate will make her vision true."_

_"You make it sound like I have no say in my one destiny. That I lack free will."_

_The Watcher shrugged, a curiously human gesture for something so mechanic. _

_"Is it proper to call it free will when any action you choose to take will inevitably result in a certain conclusion? What you call free will is the ultimate delusion among all so called sentient species, the ultimate paradox of chaos. The fact that you can postulate your own existence or decide how to spend your next sunrise doesn't change the fact that everyone is conditioned to play a certain role. You can no more choose to be her instrument than you can choose to be a Jedi."_

_"Is that what I still am?" asked Revan bitterly. Ever since his…departure from the order, he had felt hallow and aimless. The Watcher had plucked him away from the temple without any resistance from the Jedi Masters. The fact that he was so casually dismissed after the apocalyptic series of events left him even more jaded. Melara had been right. He was a tool._

_The Watcher did not seem to catch his tone._

_"If what she sees is true, you will learn the answer to that question here. There is more to being a Jedi than rank and title. Regardless you do the Republic's work."_

_"And what will happen on his planet in the Outer Rim that will make this path a reality? What exactly am I supposed to do here?"_

_"A sequence of events are unfolding here that need our attention." answered the Watcher simply. He resumed walking, his billowing robes not making a sound. Revan trailed behind him after a while._

_"It is here that our enemies will take the first steps to bring the Republic onto its knees. They will work under the cover of shadow and misdirection to achieve this. Even now they are forming alliances within the shadows, making lesser beings dance to their tune."_

_Revan still did not know who these 'enemies' were. The Watcher had been suitably vague and ominous throughout their association. Vandar had begged him in his parting words to heed whatever the Watcher asked of him. But what did the Jedi care what that midget told him anymore? _

_He turned to face the other Jedi directly. "She had determined you must be here as events unfold so the Republic may yet survive. That her vision stays true"_

_"wouldn't it be easier if she simply told me what I must do?"_

_For the first time since Revan had met this strange person, the Jedi thought the Watcher was smiling underneath his heavy cowl._

_"If she did that, how will you enact your so-called free will?"_

_Revan nodded, conceding the point. The Watcher turned away from him. "Regardless, you know the starting point for this cataclysm of events. Seek out Reeka's informants. Find out what they are doing which is so important. The rest will take care of themselves."_

"_Take care of themselves? Can you tell me nothing more?" persisted Revan._

_The other man made a noise akin to annoyance, "There will be an auction soon. And a weapon of no small consequence. The rest you must do for yourself."_

"_And what will you be doing?"_

"_Finding the source of the weapon," replied __The Watcher enigmatically, turning away towards a dark alleyway that led into darkness. He walked into the abyss, his voice trailing away._

_"Remember, the entire resources of our order are at your disposal. You have the finest weapons. The finest equipment."_

_His tone signaled that the discussion was over._

_"For the Republic then." Revan said wearily. The words were rote, and he had turned his head briefly to look at the dismal landscape again, wondering how these events could possibly unfold as she willed it. But when he turned back, the Watcher was already gone. All he left was a parting phrase to let Revan know he was still watching._

_"In Her Name." _

_

* * *

_

(present)_  
_

The room was dark, dotted with the dancing shadows from the figures occupying the dimly lit tavern known as _the Minx_. The air itself was saturated with the smell of intoxicants and alcohol, sampled generously by the various patrons. It was crowded tonight, with many aliens in evidence. A group of humans sat in one corner, talking about their latest trade prospects off world, while on another table, a group of Zabrak and Vurk were dicing and gambling to pick up the bill.

Tall lithe figures walked along dirty circular tables, the waitresses dressed in black, skin tight outfits and strippers with less still. A gaggle of lesser known species made lewd calls to a Twi'lek serving drinks. Her smooth yellow skin seemed to glow in the few neon lights illuminating the tavern, highlighting the curves of her body. The female flashed them a smile and indicated she would be with them shortly.

An Arkanian female was similarly accosted by a motley group of humans. She had silvery white hair and skin, dressed in a tight fitting top and pants. Even her eyes were silver and every movement drew the attention of the patrons in her vicinity. On many worlds, she would have fetched the highest price in the slave markets, sold for pleasure. Worlds such as the one she was on.

"How much for the night beautiful?" Slurred one of the humans. His breath smelled of cheap food and cheaper booze. The wretch was staring straight at her breasts, which the Arkanian had deliberately accentuated by wearing a low cut top.

"Sorry stud," she replied. Her voice was velvety soft. In contrast to her filthy counterpart, she smelled like a fine wine, the aroma sweet to the senses.

"You'll have to ask one of the other girls for that."

She gestured to a human female that was topless and entertaining a fat Vurk, his squinty eyes bulging at the scene.

"What if I'm not asking?" Said the drunkard. His voice was lecherous but still threatening.

"Then my furry friends over there will pop you a new bunghole," the Arkanian replied cheerfully. She nodded to the far end of the tavern where two wookies were guarding the front door. They were fine specimens, hulking carpets of fur and muscle. Various fetishes and trophies were strung as necklaces over their heads. Some looked like human skulls. One of them looked at the group and waved a shaggy paw at the Arkanian. It was still wet with blood from the last unruly patron.

The other man paled at the sight. "The other girl looks fine," he mumbled.

"Of course she does," chuckled the silvery woman.

She glided away, swaying her ass seductively to the cowed group just to accentuate what they were missing out on. Having left that trivial nuisance behind, the female looked around the tavern trying to find the man they were told about. All intelligence reports indicated that Malleus, better known as the Butcher had inserted one of his agents to this blighted world after more than a decade although the numbers and identity were unclear. And now, their horrid group was trying to contact Reeka the Hutt. Her scouts had heard increased chatter from the local news and security feeds that Reeka was selling a new type of weapon never seen in the black markets. Nothing good could ever come from that. Even though they had scant evidence, her Master…or former master had dispatched them with all haste back on this blighted world.

Glancing around, the Arkanian saw nobody that fit their target. Only the common rabble that littered this piss hole every night.

_Maybe Lucidae was wrong. He jumps at every opportunity to bring that wretch to justice…no matter how vague the evidence._

Frowning slightly she tapped her left pointed ear gently, covered by her voluminous hair.

"Mysteel," she whispered softly. "Do you see anything?"

The Arkanian's eyes trailed the golden hued Twi'lek who was pouring for one of the patron in the other end of the tavern. The pseudo-waitress winked at the customer when she was done and turned away. Without touching her head, the Twi'lek answered.

"Not yet T'shere. Just the usual."

"Do you think this is another dead end?"

"That's not what Kyne's scouts says. She's pretty sure a meeting will take place." Replied the yellow female. Even in such a hushed tone, her voiced sounded melodic.

"Besides, this is fun. I love playing dressup. Aren't you glad I pulled you along?"

As she talked, the Twi'lek sauntered around dirty tables, smiling at different drunken faces and even bending over to make a lewd joke to one of the regular patrons. Mysteel was one of the favourites among the locals, her friendly demeanour and lustrous golden yellow skin the subject of much discussion. Contrary to most of her kind, she did not work as a pleasure slave. Nor did she wear a headress like most Twi'lek females. Instead her head was decorated in a series of elaborate white tattoos.

Yet that only accentuated her beauty. She possessed high cheekbones, a smooth nose that complemented her marvellous eyes and a winning smile that tugged the hearts of everyone around her. However Mysteel was not for sale. That was a damn shame to many. T'shere was sure she would claim an even higher price than her.

But what made the Twi'lek so fascinating to the common patrons were her tentacles. Unlike all the other members of her race, Mysteel's tentacles _moved. _They flowed like separate appendages working autonomously from the arms and legs. Right now they were helping Mysteel tickle one of the drunkards on the neck, its movements enticing. People always tossed a few extra tips her way. Many patrons came just to have a chance to gaze at this hypnotic spectacle. Although Mysteel only made sporadic appearances here and only when it was necessary to their mission.

"I think we'll- wait."

The Twi'lek glanced at the door then as a hooded figure walked into the tavern. T'shere looked on in interest. The figure was draped in a dark grey cloak, all his features hooded. The newcomer's posture was hunched, obviously trying to draw as little attention as possible. A few locals glanced his way but dismissed him outright due to his unassuming pose. But to T'shere his behavior was all the proof she needed. This was their mark. The Sith sent by Malleus that was going to try and make compact with Reeka's stooges.

"Don't worry Tails, I've got this." Whispered T'shere.

Mysteel glanced up to where T'shere was standing and gave the slightest hint of a nod.

The cloaked figure walked slowly to an empty booth and sat in one smooth motion. He unhooded himself and folded his arms over the table, his eyes locked on the filthy, insect ridden table in front of him. He had chosen a seat that would give him the whole view of the room including the front door. It could only mean he was looking for someone.

Before another waitress could approach the man, T'shere walked swiftly up to where he sat. Making sure her earpiece was covered underneath her hair, she approached the figure to get a better look at him. However the room was dark so the Arkanian couldn't make out his face, only deep shadows.

"Hi there," said T'shere walking up to him. She used her most seductive voice, hoping to draw the other man's attention. Or at least make him glance up to her prominent chest area. The other man didn't stir from staring at the table.

T'shere edged closer. "What can I get you?"

On closer inspection, the man was handsomely built, with sharp defined features. His hair was unkept but tousled naturally to complement his patrician face. The Sith looked surprisingly young for someone that was supposed to be a deadly warrior and did not have the war scars and trademark mottled look of Malleus' henchmen. Evidently he had disguised himself well. But the eyes gave it away. They were old, beyond his years and they had a haunted look in them. T'shere was certain she had found the right person.

"Sir?" Repeated the Arkanian when the other man didn't respond.

"Nothing right now. I'm waiting for someone." Came the quiet reply.

_I bet you are._

"Water's free you know." Replied Tshere sardonically. "Although I wouldn't wager where it's been. In the crapper probably."

She gave a throaty chuckle hoping to elicit some response from the other man. T'shere prided herself in being able to seduce even the most hard lined straight arrow. Although she didn't do a lot of spy work herself unlike her sister, she had definitely turned the tables on during missions before with her guile. This should be no different.

Still the other man didn't look like he would give her the time of day. T'shere started to get irritated.

_Look up you bastard_. She was beginning to think that the other man preferred an entirely different type of gender. Like his own.

"No thanks." Was all the other man said. He still didn't look up.

T'shere was starting to get annoyed. If she couldn't distract him, there was no way to plant a bug on his clothes without drawing attention to herself. She tried a more direct approach.

"You know, I don't think I've seen you before," remarked T'shere leaning over on the table. Her breasts hung prominently from her tight vest at the man's eye level. She flashed a pearly smile.

"I think I'd remember someone so cute."

The other man finally stirred. He gave what Tshere thought was a whispery sigh. Probably in admiration to her fabulous physique. His dark eyes met her silvery white ones.

"No, this is my first time here." his voice was curiously neutral.

_That's more like it._ T'shere thought.

"You know...I'm off in a few hours, I could show you around." Her tone became highly suggestive.

She leaned in even more, thinking he was fully under his spell. Her hand crept forward to the back of his neck, where the collar of his cloak would be.

"Why don't we meet up after you've done your business here?"

The other man had an amused look on his face.

"Why?"

"Why...what?" Said the Arkanian in confusion.

"Why would I meet you just to get mugged?"

At first Tshere thought she had misheard.

"Come again?"

The man glanced at where her hand was reaching. Tshere was forced to pull it away before she could slip the tracker onto him. She put on a meign of innocent confusion but inwardly her stomach lurched. The other man was on to him already...but how? She risked a glance at Mysteel who had also looked at the pair with a hint of worry, having been able to hear everything through her hidden earpiece. The Twi'lek's sapphire blue eyes glinted with curiosity in the gloomy room. The Arkanian forced herself to stay composed.

"Sorry," she chuckled "I don't get the joke."

When the other man didn't reply, Tshere laughed again to cover her mounting concern. She spread her hands.

"I'm a waitress here...not a hooker looking for a fix. I'm not going to attack you and steal your credits."

"Since when do waitresses have such callused palms?"

The man with the dark eyes pointed to her left hand still outstretched. T'shere knew that her hands were indeed scabbed and callused from holding her weapon so often. It was one of her few blemishes. Unlike Mysteel who wore gloves, her hands were always bare during fighting. She cursed inwardly, never thinking of all the things, the Sith would notice that.

"I work out a lot," said Tshere defensively. She hoped her tone didn't sound too hostile.

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Holding someone at gunpoint usually takes a lot of work." Came the sarcastic reply.

The Arkanian's temper flared at that moment. Her teammates did not fear death or maiming, but her wrath was definitely something they ran away from. T'shere had gutted more than one sorry sod that pissed her off.

_Focus...torture later._

"Why would you say that?" T'shere tried to sound hurt. "Can't a girl just be nice?"

The other man looked annoyed that she insisted on playing the fool.

"You always dress like that in respectable society?" Tshere felt her face flush at the transparent insult to her attire. She wore a tight sleeveless tank top, the black material accentuating her voluptuous figure. True she usually wore a vest over it but this was her regular attire. And Kynes thought it was sexy. She forced a smile onto her pale features.

"Well, by that logic I guess every waitress and hooker here is looking to get the jump on you." T'shere gave a chilly laugh. "Can't blame a girl for trying to earn some extra tips here and there."

The other man clearly wanted her to go away. Without looking at her he pointed at her top.

"When you leaned over I noticed your undershirt was made of a flexible woven metal, mostly worn by mercenaries to deflect energy weapons."

The Arkanian stared at him in disbelief. He noticed her undershirt but not her breasts? She was beginning to think her original notion of this man being homosexual was true.

"Can't be too careful in the slums," she said eventually.

"You're also wearing high heeled boots, perfect for concealing hidden daggers and other quick draw weapons. I don't see other waitresses following your example." The man stared down towards her leather footwear, his expression accusing.

She shifted uncomfortably at his sudden scrutiny. Just because they could conceal weapons doesn't mean it didn't complemented her outfit. T'shere said as much.

"I can also see your piece jutting out from under your apron."

At those words, T'shere touched her thigh area involuntarily. Her blaster and lightsaber were still firmly tucked under the dirty cloth material.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said indignantly.

By then though, Tshere had lost all credibility to her alibi.

"Your reaction is all the confirmation I need." Came the dismissive reply. He turned away from her after his analysis.

The Arkanian glared at her lost target. She was caught and hadn't even planted the bug yet. T'shere insisted to herself that she had been careful, but evidently this man had dealt with his fair share of con men...and women. She stood there uncertainly, unsure of what to say.

The other man saved her the trouble.

"Be gone from here. Go find another target to prey on."

T'shere left with all the dignity she could muster, her head held stiffly upright.

Even as Tshere walked away she could hear giggling over the voice channel.

"That was awesome!" came Mysteel's voice in her ear. "I think I peed myself a little when he burned you."

"Shut up" hissed Tshere acidly. She was in no mood for Mysteel's cheerful attitude right now.

_She said this would be easy. Like roleplaying in the bedroom._

Her counterpart however took the threat in stride like she always did.

"Do that again, only this time try showing a bit more ass and a whole lot less cleavage. Maybe he'll go for that."

The flustered Arkanian spared a glare at Mysteel who was covering her mouth, trying her best not to burst into laughter and spill her drinks all over the floor.

"Don't stare at me," Tshere whispered into her ear piece. The Twi'lek gave a parting wink before resuming her brisk walk among the patrons acting as if nothing had happened.

"Don't worry, I've got this." Mysteel whispered over the channel.

T'shere grimaced. They would not be able to listen in on the Sith's conversation. They still had a chance to bug Reeka's contact though. Hopefully Mysteel would have more luck in her role with this farce.

* * *

Another figure eventually swaggered into the dark tavern trailed by a group of hulking guards. The newcomer was human and had an air of arrogance about him born from confidence of being under Reeka's employ. The man was dressed in loose black clothing, typical of the various gang members on this world. His skin had an unnatural yellow pallor which many attributed to his unhealthy lifestyle. His dark eyes darted to and fro looking for his contact but only glimpsed the usual vermin littering this dung heap.

From the corner of his eye though, he saw a mysterious cloaked figure. His appearance matched the description he had got from his sources. Even though the informant couldn't see his eyes from this distance, he felt very uncomfortable, realizing he was under intense scrutiny.

With a gloved hand, he gestured for his bodyguards to wait near another table before heading towards the potential client. Walking quickly around the other patrons, the swarthy figure quickly sat on the opposite side to the other man in the booth. The cloaked figure stared at him with a neutral gaze, his dark eyes seemingly boring into his head. Despite his security, the informant shifted uneasily.

"I'm Bandor," the man drawled in Huttese. He was told the newcomer was surprisingly fluent in this language. That was one of the reasons he had deigned to have the meeting. This mysterious person had contacted Bandor's sniffers, claiming he wanted a buy in on the major auction that Reeka was arranging for prospective clientele. Normally Bandor would not have met with just anyone. Only those that had Reeka's personal invitation or his informant's good ear had a chance to join. But very few clients knew his master's underground language, so Bandor surmised he was well connected and therefore quite wealthy.

"Who am I talking to?"

"Names are dangerous," the other man replied quietly in the same dialect. "Let's just get on to business."

"Well I've got call you something." Countered Bandor in annoyance.

The other man shrugged. "Revenant."

Bandor made an approximation of rolling his eyes. "What about your real name?"

"I honestly don't know."

For some reason Bandor believed him. He felt a tiny shiver up his spine.

A Rodian waitress walked up to the booth and asked in a bored nasal voice. "What's your pleasure?"

"Nothing, right now" replied Bandor dismissively. The waitress turned away, muttering about cheapskates and freeloaders. His counterpart regarded this exchange without comment.

"So…you're the one who wants to get a piece of the action." The informant said eventually, leaning back casually in his seat.

"I'm the one who wants to deal with Reeka in person" Came the quiet reply.

"Doesn't happen." Said Bandor abruptly. "Reeka the Hutt doesn't see anyone personally. Especially not newcomers."

Bandon noticed the other man wore metal gauntlets of an unusual design. In fact everything about this man was unusual. Bandon had dealt with Sith before and he always got the chills but this man unnerved him to the core. He was silent for a long moment, as if assessing this turn of events.

"Then who are his other potential buyers?" The other man asked eventually.

"Why do you want to know?" Retorted the smaller figure. Bandor didn't like giving information of other clientele.

"This is a major event. I know I am not the only one interested in this auction." The dark haired man flexed his right hand idly. Bandor felt even more nervous and he unconsciously fingered the blaster belted at his hip.

"I want to know who I'm up against."

"Well if your really interested, you can meet everyone at the auction."

"Where?"

"Slow down" said Bandor raising his gloved hands. "You seriously expect me to allow you into the auction, just like that?"

"This meeting is only a formality. I can pay well." To accentuate his point, the other man lifted up a data slate that showed the credit information for an account. Bandor's bulbous eyes widened even more as he saw the sum. To his eye the data slate was legitimate and could not be forged. This was the real deal.

_Damn...if he buys it...we'll all be rich._

He swallowed, hoping his reaction wasn't too obvious.

"Nevertheless you'll have to go through some paperwork before the auction. I'll need to collect the documents so you can enter. Reeka has a reputation to maintain."

"You're criminals. What use do you have for pomp and ceremony?" The other man replied tersely, his dark eyes narrowing. It was clear that he had no patience for these games.

Bandor though had been in a hundred tight negotiations. He knew how to make a deal. They stared at each other for a few more seconds uncomfortably. Bandor was about to call his bodyguards when the other man sighed.

"An hour from now. You can name the location."

The agent relaxed slightly. He took out a map and pointed at one of the red circles he had drawn for such occasions.

"This is_ the Belt_. Dark, secluded and most importantly safe. You think you can make it there?"

Bandor's client gave a faint nod.

"Good, this goes without saying, but come alone,"

His client rose from his seat.

"I wouldn't try any favors from the locals here," said the mysterious man as a parting remark, before walking out of the tavern doors

Bandor mulled over those words for a few moments before getting up to leave too.

While he walked towards the door, one of the waitresses walked towards him, carrying a tray of drinks. Her head was turned, apparently distracted with one of the customers and she bumped against the human when their courses collided. Bandor staggered slightly from the impact. He was about to snap at the other person but halted when he noticed it was a beautiful Twi'lek with amazing blue eyes. She had an embarrassed look on her face.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I'm such a klutz." Without putting down her tray she walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Bandor felt a tingle up his spine at the contact.

"No harm done I hope?" She batted her eyes.

The human finally shook himself from his stupor. "No..." He managed.

"Oh good!" She said cheerfully. The Twi'lek adjusted his dirty collar.

"It would have been a great shame to mess that nice outfit of yours."

Bandor didn't know what to say.

With one more smile and wink, the Twi'lek turned away and continued with her business.

Shaking his head slightly, Bandor made it the rest of the way to the door, and signaled for his guards to follow.

After a couple of minutes to make sure they wouldn't return, T'shere flashed a signal to Mysteel. They walked to a corner of the tavern.

"Did you get him?" Whispered T'shere.

"Do Wookies pull people's arms out of their sockets?" Mysteel had a mischievous look. She held up a tracking device that showed Bandor's current position.

"That's my girl." T'shere patted her on the back.

Mysteel gave a soft laugh. "Better get moving Sis. They'll probably meet soon."

T'shere nodded. "I'll alert the others."

With that, the two females left their posts to get ready.


	3. Chapter 3 The Ambush

_Think fast Revan_

_-unattributed source  
_

* * *

Bandor stood patiently in _the Belt _where he was supposed to meet the his prospective client. The man held a ragged cloth over his mouth to suppress the rank smell of fetid decay coming from the piles of garbage littered across the alley.

Normally Bandor wouldn't make deals in this place, but during their brief encounter, he had been suitably disquieted by the other man's presence. He didn't have many dealing with Sith or Jedi and realistically, he could not tell the difference. To him, they were all overzealous fanatics with too much sense of their self worth.

As cocky as he usually was, the informant didn't have a much better feeling about this deal so he made sure the meeting was to his favour as much as possible. Bandor had chosen this meeting location for two reasons. Firstly, it was primarily used as a disposal area for garbage and unwanted corpses. This meant no unwanted eyes would see their dealings or if things got ugly.

Not that it really mattered. Almost all the inhabitants of the Blood District were connected to Reeka, either through the protection racket or as mercenaries for hire.

Secondly the _belt _was a strategic location for him. From a bird's eye view where he was standing, it literally resembled a =O=. The wide oval entrapment roughly twenty five metes in radius was surrounded by tall foreboding buildings. The circular space thinned out to form two narrow alleyways no wider than a meter and a half abreast. If a person wanted to fight, he would find himself surrounded on all sides and if he tried to flee through one of the corridors, he would be easily picked off by blaster fire.

As an added bit of security, Bandor had brought more than a score of bodyguards as lookouts and sentries just to make sure the Sith didn't try anything funny. They were all veterans from Reeka's private enforcers and had paid them well to protect his assets. The same four burly humans from the tavern flanked his position while snipers were hidden in one of the buildings overlooking the oval space. The sharpshooters had a full view of the entire landscape and could cover them at a moments notice. The rest were positioned around the ring and entrenched in the alleyways with the moonless night and dark smog obscuring their presence well enough. It was probably overkill but with the Sith, one could never be too safe, especially when he was preparing to milk this deal for every credit it was worth.

At least he didn't have to deal with the Cult of the Reborn. Matarl had managed to land that cursed assignment. But from what he heard though, the Rutian had actually managed to convince the infamous cult to send an emissary planet side. Other agents were set to meet them in the _Minx_ later tonight. He hoped Reeka didn't get more than he bargained for despite the Hutt's confidence that the Sith would pay well. Malleus had a reputation for...fickleness as well as debauchery. The thought of those deviants disturbed him.

_He's certainly taking his sweet time, _thought the agent, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

He was about to open a channel to his sentries for a status report when he suddenly became aware of another presence. Bandor had to blink. One moment there was only an empty, dimly lit space in front of him, the next there was the cloaked figure emerging seamlessly from the darkness.

_How do they do that?_ He wondered idly. His guards hadn't even alerted him of the newcomer's presence.

The man stepped forward into the dim yellow light coming from one of the overlooking windows. Bandor couldn't see his face but he knew it was the same person he talked to recently as he was wearing the same grey cloak. Bandor's nearby bodyguards shuffled uncomfortably at the unexpected presence. It seemed the other man was trying to impress them with parlor tricks and negotiate from a position of strength.

_Two can play at that game._

With a silent gesture, his hidden soldiers crept out of the shadows behind the man, their guns drawing beads.

If the newcomer was intimidated by the sudden reversal, he gave no sign.

"There you are." Bandor said his usual drawling voice.

* * *

"There they are," whispered Mysteel. Even in the gloomy darkness of the slums, her bright blue eyes still shone like two sapphires. And they were alight in anticipation. The Twi'lek and Arkanian were perched on the roof surrounding the alleyway to the east of Bandor's position, downwind from the agent's guards. From their vantage point, they could also see everything that transpired between the cloaked figure and Bandor.

T'shere looked at the scene appraisingly at the scene.

"Trickster, status report" Tshere whispered. A second later she heard Kynes, her sniper and commander of scouts raise her voice on the comm channel. It was velvety soft, with hidden lethality like the woman herself.

"My scope indicates a dozen enemy heat signatures in the immediate vicinity including the agent. Other hostiles are located in the windows overlooking the oval proper. Four snipers are across the buildings directly opposite your position. Coordinates transferred to my men."

"Are they ready?"

"Infiltration teams are in position. Just say the word."

The commander smiled. Thanks to Mysteel's intelligence from the bug she planted, they had inserted their own scouts into position before the agent's men had even arrived here. Their men were experts of camouflage, blending seamlessly with the environment. T'shere tapped her ear, bringing her voice into the general team channel.

"Infiltration squad, confirmation on motives?"

"Targets confirmed." came another voice. "They are definitely talking about the auction. They seem to be negotiating some sort of price."

That was all the information that Tshere needed. This person was definitely from the Cult, sent to acquire the weapon.

_What do you know. Lucidae was right for once._

Tshere looked at Mysteel, who nodded eagerly. She activated her communicator again,

"All right Aethon team, operation is a go. Remember, take the Sith and informant alive. Waste the rest."

"Where's the fun in that?" Came a garbled reply in the channel. "We should be gutting the bastard."

T'shere smiled. "Intelligence first, gutting later."

She gave her sister an appraising look. "Tails will take out the bodyguards flanking the agent and secure him as a prisoner. Trickster, take out the snipers and lay down suppressive fire. The rest of you, get rid of the other guards."

"I guess you're going to capture the Sith Lord?" asked Kynes archly. Her normally callous tone held a tint of concern.

"Damn straight." T'shere still bristled with the indignity of being dismissed by the bastard so casually. She meant to repay the favour.

"Don't worry," the Arkanian added at the hidden question. "He isn't Reborn. It shouldn't be too hard. Just make sure he stays long enough for me to take him down."

"Understood."

"And what about me?" Came a mousy voice over the channel. T'shere sighed. That would be Arctet. Not a full fledged member but he aspired to be as good a sniper as Kynes. Too bad he was fourteen going on ten. The man was utterly craven. She didn't know what potential Kynes saw in him.

Mysteel answered the question. "You've got the most important job of all," said the yellow female dramatically. "Keeping my sister safe."

T'shere frowned. She did not want to bring her along but the toddler followed Mysteel _everywhere._ It didn't help that the kid had an uncanny knack of being where she didn't belong, sneaking almost second nature to her. In fact the child wouldn't even be on this planet if she hadn't miraculously boarded their ship, showing herself only after it was too late to turn back to HQ.

Mysteel had been delighted by the unexpected bundle. Tshere not so much.

Despite the huge security risk, Mysteel had insisted on bringing the scamp for the mission, saying it was unfair to leave her underground when she had gone to so much effort to be with them. Tshere had grudgingly agreed. Her sister would just pout for the rest of the day if Tshere said no. And Mysteel was good enough at it that it made Tshere feel bad.

"Just keep her out of the engagement zone," warned T'shere. Both of them were simply pedestrians outside the alleyway. There should have been no chance they could be caught in the crossfire, but with Arctet, you could never belabour a point too much.

The commander of the infiltration team took out her lightsaber and inspected the weapon. It was silver like her hair, but she swore she could still see the old stain on her handle.

_So much blood..._

She shook herself out of her reverie. This was no time to feel guilty again.

"Alright...on my signal." The Arkanian whispered.

* * *

The agent waved a sheet of pamphlets at his customer, addressing him curtly.

"These are your entrance papers. Present these to the guards when you arrive. They'll scan the codifier bar at the bottom. It's combination can't be duplicated. Drop my name if they ask. Understood?"

The other man nodded. "where is the auction taking place?"

_And here we go,_ grinned the agent inwardly.

"Not so fast." He said sharply to his customer. "You need a buy-in to attend the auction. You give us the credits and we give you the location."

Bandor thought other man was sneering at the proclamation even though he still couldn't see his face.

"You're going to make everyone pay without any guarantee of return?" His customer's voice held a tinge of malice.

"It's called insurance," said Bandor calmly, expecting resistance.

"It's called ripping me off."

"Hey, you don't have to like it but those are the rules. " said Bandor with a smirk. Despite his dangerous aspect, Bandor didn't think the Sith would try something with such unfavorable odds, even for him.

"You pay a small stipend so we know you're serious about the auction and won't try anything funny when you're there."

Bandor didn't include the part where the insurance fee would be distributed among themselves. In his mind, people like him were entitled to a 'finders fee'. The agent had gone through hundreds of seemingly benign transactions like this where deals were apparently agreed on. He always added the catch at the end when it was too late to back out. Early on his career, he realized psychologically, after going through so much trouble, his customers were too committed by then to change their mind. This would be no different.

"I'm sure," replied the other man dryly, who clearly saw the game he was playing. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Will you pay then?"

"No"

That wasn't the answer he expected. He looked warily for any signs of treachery but as far as he could tell, all his men were accounted for.

"You want out of the auction?" Bandor asked cautiously.

"Wrong again. You're going to wave the insurance fee."

"And why would I do that?" Snapped the informant. He was really beginning to hate dealing with these strange warriors.

The other man assumed a folded arm pose. "I think we both know the reason...but why don't you say it out loud so you can finish your thought process?"

Bandor stiffened at the mocking tone the other man used.

_What the hell is he getting at?_

He had a nagging feeling at the back of his head as he gradually began to piece it all together. Then suddenly he understood.

_The tavern..._

The man was waiting patiently for him to speak.

"Because...because I know how many credits you carry."

"Go on." Prompted the other man.

"And...I know that you would probably be the highest bidder in any event...so It wouldn't be in my best interests to deny you entrance."

"Congratulations." Said the other man sarcastically. "Now tell me when and where this auction is going to take place."

Bandor cursed his own foolishness during their initial meeting when he had shown such a strong reaction to the credits the other man had shown him. He had played his hand too quickly...and the other man was calling his bluff now. The agent glared at the other man venomously, refusing to lose his profit margin.

"I could get my guards to strip you and leave you here to rot."

His would be client tilted his head slightly to the side. "I'm not the one who has a 'reputation' to maintain." echoing Bandor's earlier remark about criminal etiquette.

_Bastard..._

They glared at each other for many moments. Bandor's guards tensed, expecting a command to attack at any moment.

"Is this cockfight really worth you master's time? I'm sure he wouldn't approve of you cutting into his profits like this." asked the other man eventually, his eyes never leaving the other man.

The agent realized he had dug himself into unenviable situation. He didn't want to lose his racketeering profit. On the other hand, if he killed this man, he would tarnish Reeka's image and worse, lose a very lucrative client. Reeka would not appreciate that. It was better to cut his losses.

Bandor was reluctantly prepared to divulge the location. That was until he saw the other man jerk his head sharply up. The agent was instantly wary.

"What?"

"I heard something...it sounded like a bird."

Bandor looked at the man incredulously. "There are no birds on Darith. Or wildlife for that matter."

"Exactly." The man returned his glare at Bandor.

"You were followed,"

In the blink of an eye, a flashing blade of light appeared in the stranger's hands.

Before Bandor could do anything though, a single blaster shot echoed through air. There was a scream and the sound of body moving. Bandor glanced up in surprise as he saw a figure plummet from one of the tall buildings above. It was one of his snipers, dead before he hit the floor.

He heard three more rapid popping sounds followed by muffled screams. His communicator started chirping loudly with confusion and demands for a target.

"Bastard!" Bandor shouted. He glared angrily at the other man, thinking this was a setup, but realized he was no longer paying attention to him. In fact he seemed intent on dealing with whatever had killed the snipers.

_If not him...then who?_

He got another sick feeling though as he heard more hissing noises...more of those awful blades being ignited.

Other screams were heard in the night, but these were not cries of pain. It was a war cry.

_"We have come for you!"_

_

* * *

_

Suddenly the whole alleyway was alight in a myriad of angry colors, and everything became chaos.

The innocuous piles of garbage suddenly exploded with movement to reveal several dirty figures. Others detached themselves from the dark corners of the alley, separating from the shadow. All of them were draped in dark ragged cloth and painted in black.

In unison, they raised their blasters and fired at the confused throng. Half a dozen of Bandor's men dropped instantly from the point blank shots. Others scrambled hastily for cover behind trash bins and rubble. His would be client had disappeared in a myriad of smoke and blaster fire, quickly becoming obscured from his view.

_Screw this._

The agent turned and fled, shouting for his remaining four bodyguards to cover him. He scrambled a dozen meters to the other end of the belt, ducking through the criss cross of ruby light. Miraculously, not one of the shots hit him.

Bandor thought he was going to make it when a felt a rush of air to his right. There was a crunch, and the gurgling scream of the guard next to him. Bandor raised his head to see a boot coming straight for his face.

And suddenly he knew nothing.

* * *

Mysteel was doing what she did best. Causing chaos.

The Twi'lek had jumped into the confused throng moments, timing her descent with the agent's departure. She ended her sharp plummet by kicking one of the mercenaries in the jugular with a heavy boot.

The victim's pipe collapsed with an audible crunch. Mysteel used the force of the strike to propel herself into a somersault and pummel Bandor with her other foot before landing nimbly on two feet. The agent went down immediately, knocked out cold. She rose up quickly then, holding a lightsaber, golden like the color of her skin. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

The mercenaries looked at her in stupefied silence.

"Hey you're those same guys from the bar," noticed Mysteel. She gave a laugh at the irony.

"Well I'm Mysteel, and I will be...'servicing' you today,"

Before they could reply to her lurid remark, the Twi'lek pounced forward with her nasty weapon. She impaled the closest mercenary's chest as he was raised his own. The man gasped in pain before expiring.

One of the other two mercenaries had the presence of mind to raise his own blaster. Before he could fire it, one of the Twi'leks tentacles lashed out at his hand. The other man was so surprised he didn't have time to retract his the weapon as Mysteel twisted her enormous appendage to the side, disarming the attacker.

The final mercenary still armed got a shot off, but it was easily ducked by the slippery form. Mysteel tried to follow through with her attack but realized her weapon had become stuck. The Twi'lek gave an annoyed huff at the deadweight.

"Every single time! You'd think just once, you would have the decency to die cleanly when I do that."

Mysteel let go of her weapon, seeing it was still hopelessly stuck in the first victim's chest. Instead, she leapt into the air with the grace and seamlessness of a practiced acrobat. The unarmed mercenary thought she was going to tackle him but she was soaring past over his shoulder. He turned in confusion just in time to see her right leg clamp onto his neck, between the bottom part of her thigh and the back of her knee.

The Twi'lek gave a sudden twist of her body, snapping the other man's neck while she was in mid air. The corpse fell leadenly on the floor.

Mysteel recovered quickly and turned to the other horrified mercenary. In the span of two seconds she had taken down four armed men.

"Be right with you," she said cheerfully to the final adversary while brushing her hands on her pants. "You're dead friend and I have uh..unfinished business."

She sauntered to her first victim and began tugging at her pesky weapon again.

The remaining mercenary, a veteran of hundreds of campaigns and thousands of skirmishes turned tail and ran into the narrow alleyway.

Mysteel had just managed to extricate her weapon out of the man's chest. She looked up with her bright eyes, seeing her final target running away.

"Don't go!" She pouted. "I don't want to chase you!" A thought occurred to her then. She drew her right arm back and flipped the handle on her lightsaber so she was holding it overhand. As soon as it ignited she threw it like a spear.

The deadly projectile whipped across thirty meters in a couple of nanoseconds to impale itself into the back of the running form's shoulder blades. The mercenary fell limp.

Mysteel patted her hands in satisfaction, smiling at her handiwork. Ignoring blaster fire, she went to retrieve her weapon yet again before the telltale sound of clashing lightsabers caught her attention. The Twi'lek turned back to see two forms intertwined in a deadly dance in the middle of the arena, their weapons glowing an angry blue and yellow.

Mysteel thought to help T'shere but the instructions had been clear. She needed to secure the informant. With that, thought she jogged back to get her weapon and tie the other man up.

* * *

After the surprise attack, T'shere's scouts had settled into a sporadic firefight, hiding behind whatever cover they cooed find. But the agent's guards were definitely on the worse end, scattered and disorganized.

Kynes had done her job well. From her unseen location, she had dispatched the snipers with three precise shots, her accuracy and rate of fire was the best T'shere had ever seen. But that wasn't all. Not only did she not miss, she could plant her shots for multiple kills. This superlative skill had earned her the endearing name of 'Trickster'.

Milliseconds after killing the enemy snipers, she had sighted carefully at the two guards behind her primary target. They were preparing to engage her scouts. Holding her breath to steady the weapon's aim for a split second, she let loose a single solid round from her Executioner rifle.

The bullet screamed through the air to pierce the first guard's skull and came out the other side to puncture the head of the next. Both of them collapsed in plethora of blood and brain matter.

The sight of the double kill thrilled the Arkanian. She would have to find a proper way to reward her favorite sniper later. Kynes wasted no time, laying suppressive fire on the Sith, so he couldn't flee. He dodged and parried the deadly projectiles with flashing arcs of his lightsaber. To his credit, he managed to avoid being hit, his heightened senses allowing him to anticipate incoming attacks with commendable accuracy. But the Sith was effectively trapped in the centre of the ring.

As she surveyed her target, T'shere had briefly wondered why the Sith would be fighting with a blue lightsaber. All the deviants she encountered only fought with red, to reflect their ill tempers. She dismissed the thought, assuming the bastard had taken the weapon off the corpse of a Jedi. Not that she really cared.

_Time to end this._

"All right Trickster, that's enough, let me take over."

Without waiting for an acknowledgment, she leapt from the roof like a bird of prey. She led with a vicious overhand swing aimed for his shoulder, hoping to bring him down quickly. It was a favoured tactic of their group, catching their opponent off guard from an skyward attack angle and ripping them to shreds. Mysteel had just performed her part flawlessly even if it was somewhat unorthodox.

Unlike Mysteel though, her victim did not fall prey to such a maneuver. Her yellow blade caught his blue one in a shower of sparks as the hooded figure made an overhead block. T'shere flipped back, landing on both feet.

She grinned wickedly at her soon to be victim.

"Miss me jerk-wad?" She spun her weapon like a disc in a nasty flourish.

"We didn't get to finish our little chat an hour ago and I got lonely."

The other figure looked at her passively showing no indication that he recognized her or not.

"Nothing to say? That's fine by me."

Without wasting more words she held her double hafted weapon in front of her. The bottom half of the lightsaber ignited in gold to complement her upper half. Grasping the shaft with both hands, she rushed forward in a flurry of motion, her weapon humming with deadly promise.

T'shere brought her weapon in a sequence of roundhouse swings, forcing her opponent to parry rapidly and retreat backwards. Faster and faster, T'shere's momentum began to build, trading two blows for every one of his.

One of the advantages of the double ended lightsaber was you could execute twice as many attacks, taking only a fraction of time to recover your position. The problem was that the number of moves available became limited, as swinging overhand would mean impaling yourself with the bottom half of the weapon. Her attacks also required her to have a lot of open space, her long weapon tracing huge arcs around her sides. She compensated handily though, her speed and grace more than making up for these limitations.

Right slash, left slash and then uppercut swing. The scything attack brought her opponent's guard high. T'shere followed through immediately, her next attack a deadly thrust aimed at his chest.

The Sith swiped the blade to the side, deflecting it at the last moment to miss his body by millimetres. He jumped back to avoid another flurry of attacks. Both opponents circled each other warily then, ignoring the gunfire screaming across the combat zone.

Her opponent decided to take the offensive then. He leapt forward, unleashing his own barrage of attacks. His arms became a blur of movement, with bright blue slashes of light raining down upon T'shere's guard. Most opponents would have been hard pressed to keep up with the rhythm and momentum of battle.

T'shere however, was very well trained, the callused palms a testament to her vigorous regime. With proper instruction she had become one of the prominent warriors of this group along with Mysteel. She had killed all sorts of opponents with this very weapon, ranging from common pirates to more formidable enemies like the one she fought now. She also killed a Jedi once but that was more by accident than design. The Arianian twirled her weapon effortlessly, creating a impenetrable barrier in front of her, each of the attacker's strikes handily deflected. This was another advantage to her weapon. It allowed her to parry and defend with much less effort than her opponent.

Seeing that his tactic was ineffective, the attacker tried to be spontaneous in his dance. He executed a quick two slash combination before pulling back and turning his attacks into a series of mid thrusts.

It didn't matter. T'shere easily blocked them all. His latest frontal thrusts was deflected with a spinning swipe of her upper blade. The Arkanian swiftly followed through with the bottom half of her weapon, her momentum propelling the slashing attack straight at his hooded face.

The vicious counter caught the Sith off guard and he only jerked to the side at the last moment. The brutal attack hissed past his face, singeing his skin and robes. While he staggered, T'shere used her spinning momentum to land an stinging kick on the other man's neck.

Tshere felt her foot connect with his windpipe. There was a crunch, and the other man staggered away, winded and disoriented.

"That was for the shot at my choice in clothing," she taunted while the other man recovered. She smiled sweetly at the injured form. During the brief lull, T'shere's noticed with approval that Mysteel had secured the hostage. Her team was finishing the rest of Reeka's mercenaries with their customary efficiency. The only obstacle left was Malleus' little stooge.

She grinned inwardly. After this battle, T'shere could say she carried out the operation perfectly. Even Lucidae would have to admit her execution was flawless.

With that thought, the Arkanian resumed her attack the other man in an onslaught of motion. They sparred round and round the oval battleground. Their lightsabers shrieked in a cacophony of noise, both warriors dancing in perfect synchronicity to the ebb and flow of battle, reacting instinctively to each other's attacks. More than once Tshere had her opponent cornered in the ring just to let him slip away at the last moment. He would then counter with a furious onslaught, pressing her guard, his lightsaber lashing out like viper.

Both warriors refused to break back from this furious pace, each daring the other to falter in their dance.

T'shere's opponent however was genuinely tiring, needing much more effort to keep up with her attacks. Strength mattered little to a warrior that could counter twice as fast as her opponent. His earlier injuries were also beginning to hamper his movements, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

_Time to end this._

Sensing her impending victory, she countered his latest attack with a brutal sweep of his weapon, causing her opponent to leap back. She then leapt forward and executed a furious combination of spinning slashes. Each strike positioned his blade even higher, the attacks to fast for him to adjust. Her opponent was forced to back-pedal hastily from her aggressive routine, their momentum leading them to the southern exit.

When his sword was high enough, she leapt straight at him. This time though she didn't lead with a upward slash like he anticipated. Gripping her long shaft, the Arkanian punched out with the metal at his face with both hands. The other warrior could not dodge to the side, the length of the weapon making it impossible to avoid.

The strike caught him just below the jaw with a concussive force. The Sith's head snapped back as he reeled in pain.

With an exultant cry, T'shere launched a vicious swipe at his mids section, designed to disarm him literally. Her cagey opponent rolled backwards in the dirt desperately, avoiding being cut in half. His maneuver saw him emerge between the two narrow alleyway walls, effectively trapped.

Tshere exulted in her inevitable victory.

"I have you, bastard!" she shouted. The Arkanian launched herself at the stationary form with a surging thrust, thinking he would be easy prey with nowhere to escape.

In her haste though, the Arkanina did not notice something the Sith had grabbed during his tumble in the ground.

The cloaked figure whipped something from his left hand just as she was about to impale him. A trail of dirt caught the Arkanian full in the face. She gasped and cursed, momentarily without vision. T'shere blindly charged past the Sith as he leapt several feet up the air over her stumbling form. She stumbled into the narrow alley.

The Arkanian quickly wiped the grime off her face just in time to see an arcing downcut slice to her vulnerable flesh. T'shere attempted to block but her right elbow connected solidly with the adjoining wall. She awkwardly twisted her weapon in position to parry the blow, deflecting the lighsaber just enough to hiss against the wall. Her opponent was undeterred continuing to press her down the narrow path with quick abrupt slashes.

The Arkanian suddenly realized that her advantage had been taken away. Her weapon's shaft was twice as long as the normal lightsaber and she could not adjust its length. In the narrow corridor, she had nowhere to maneuver, and most importantly nowhere to swing her elbows to make her long sweeping swipes. In this situation, her skills counted for nothing.

Her opponent had no such trouble, his style adjusting handily to fight in the narrow confines. He lashed out with downward strikes, keeping his arms relatively close to his side but still managing to twist the blade into devastating attack angles. He pressed the other female relentlessly, driving her farther down the narrow alley.

T'shere had a much harder time, needing to position herself awkwardly to deflect each incoming blow. She knew then that it was only a matter of time before the killing stroke found her.

It happened a few seconds after realization kicked in. The dangerous man threw a scathing uppercut aimed for T'shere's neck. She threw herself to one side with both hands flailing. The force against the wall winded her and she needed to release her right hand from the weapon to brace herself from the impact.

_Dammit_, she thought.

Her enemy followed through with a devastating downward slash to her head. T'shere managed to get her weapon up, but with only one hand holding it, and her off hand at that, the block was extremely poor. The attacker's blade bit through her pathetic guard to shear straight into her shoulder, catching her above the right breast. The armor underneath her clothing caught a huge brunt of the force, but the blade still dug through, leaving an angry red burn. T'shere screamed, her chest alight in agony as she collapsed into the dirt, skidding. Her weapon spun away to one side and deactivated.

The Arkanian's last vision before she descended into blackness was the Sith Lord moving slowly towards her, his approach like the herald of death itself.

* * *

Revan took a ragged breath, considering his defeated opponent. He had no idea who these newcomers were or why they had attacked him and the informant's men. Rivals perhaps, but at the moment he didn't care. He was wounded and needed to regroup and think of his next move after this change of events.

Muttered shouts of surprise greeted him as he shook himself from his battle haze.

The Jedi realized the fight had taken them into the major street, with various spectators looking at him agog. Distantly, he could hear pounding footsteps as more of the damn scouts converged on his position so he would need to disappear into the morass of people soon.

He briefly considered killing the annoying female but shoved the thought away. Revan would not kill an opponent too weak to defend himself. Still the sight of her prone figure before him felt strangely familiar.

The Jedi realized he was having another bout of déjà vu.

_This reminds me of the…that trial._

Another abrupt sound brought him out of his revelry.

Revan twisted his head to the left at the disturbance and realized it was the wail of an infant. Among the throng of pedestrians on the street edging away, two were actually coming towards him. One was a human male, about Revan's age. In front of him was a blue Twi'lek, held back by the older one. She was no more than two or three years old, her chearubic features stained with tears.

The man pointed a gun at him but seemed reluctant to approach him. When the Jedi caught him in the eye, the younger man quailed in fear.

"Get away!" he cried, making sweeping gestures at the unconscious female. Revan noticed the idiot didn't even have the safety off, and he was holding the gun the wrong way. His firing arm was shaking so badly he had to steady it with the other. That was all the distraction the child needed.

To the Jedi's amazement, the Twi'lek rushed forward and scampered on top of the fallen Arkanian.

Bright moist eyes stared up to Tshere's would be killer, scared but unbowed.

"No!" she shouted defiantly.

It was a single word, but the message was clear. If he wanted to kill the Arkanian, he would have to kill her first.

Revan stared at the Twi'lek in wonder.

_Courage can be found in the unlikeliest of places._

He lowered his lightsaber to his side, trying to assume a non-threatening pose.

The Jedi was so distracted by this development and his wounds that he didn't sense another person creep up from behind him. He felt the rush of wind behind his back but was too late to dodge. The swing of a blunt metal tube struck him at the back of the head with a deafening crack.

Revan fell to the ground, knocked out cold. The rest of the spectators shouted in alarm and beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to become part of the collateral damage.

* * *

Mysteel breathed a deep sigh of relief. She looked down in concern at the little infant.

"All right little sister?"

The tiny blue Twi'lek gave a small giggle. It sounded like she approved.

"That's my girl." Mysteel smiled. She bent down and scooped the baby up in one arm and planted a kiss on her forehead before moving over to examine the Arkanian. T'shere had a nasty gash over her chest, trailing from the top of her right breast to her stomach but she was still breathing. The Arkanian might have a livid scar but she would live.

Mysteel turned her head around at the sound of footsteps. Kynes along with her scouts were jogging up to them.

"How's the cleanup?" Mysteel asked.

"Last hostile has been killed. No casualties on our side, only a few superficial energy burns."

As she said this, Kynes knelt down at their fallen leader and gave her a concerned look.

"She's okay," the Twi'lek remarked. The sniper nodded.

Convinced that their friend would live to fight another day, Mysteel glanced back at Arctet. He was as white as a ghost.

"So...no body parts missing?"

The young man shook his head vigorously.

"Apparently...just his dignity," remarked Kynes.

They noticed a wet spot down his pants. Some of the scouts sighed at the other man's cowardice but Mysteel giggled.

"Awesome. Lets get the hell out of here."


	4. Chapter 4 Preparations

_Twi'leks are now color coded for your convenience!_

_attributed to Mysteel  
_

* * *

_(8 days ago from present)_

_Revan heard a faint click from the far side of his chambers. The cell door opened abruptly and a shadow descended on his hunched form. The Jedi didn't look up, knowing from the chill who it was._

_"Have you made your preparations?" asked the Watcher without emotion._

_The younger man didn't immediately reply. He was holding a metallic head in his gloves, turning it over in his hands like a precious relic. And in a way it was. All the secrets tucked away in the thing's memory banks._

_If only he had more time and the resources. _

_"You cannot bring that with you." remarked his new handler. In a sense, the Watcher was a relic itself, ancient and mysterious. For every truth he told, he held back two more. _

_Revan never told the other person the significance of this relic, but he knew anyways. Just like he knew who Raithe was. The Watcher's accumulated wisdom may have rivaled any archive in the Republic._

_"I didn't think so," Revan remarked tonelessly. "that is why I am waiting for my friend to retrieve it,". The Jedi had decided that before he left, he would entrust Exon with the relic. In the time he would be away, his companion could do more good with it than he. Both had solemnly agreed to keep this secret to themselves, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Masters who neither of them trusted any longer. The Watcher did not object. _

_He thought briefly about telling Alek about the enormity he discovered. But like many times before, his friend was away from the temple and their paths were not fated to cross at this time._

_They stood there in an awkward silence. Revan had no desire to trade more words with the man who would now be in charge of his life. He knew in the other thing's mind, he was simply another weapon to be wielded mindlessly at whatever foe was in store. In truth, he had initially refused to be subservient to this...machine thing, but..._

_Eventually the Watcher broke the silence._

_"I detect a 0.3 percent fluctuation in your thyroid gland, which could be an indication of depression. Are you feeling unwell Jedi?"_

_"Do not call me that," said Revan sourly. "you of all people should know, I am no longer of the Order, seeing how you made the Masters take my rank."_

_Only after he said the words did it actually feel true. Excommunication. How did it come to this? Less than a week ago, he was a true servant of the Jedi Order, helping do his part for the Republic. Now he was a disgraced and lost thing, stripped of all his rank and honors. All because he tried to do the right thing._

_The Watcher seemed amused. _

_"Is that what this is all about? You should not take your expulsion personally. Do not fret. You will be back within these walls soon enough."_

_Revan looked at the other being suspiciously._

_"It is all politics." the shriveled machine thing calmly. "Your exile is convenient for the Masters because it exculpates them from any more potential...complications that might arrive from your next mission. Plausible deniability if you will. And since I have the authority to take you away from the Order, I have the ability to give it back. Succeed in the task I give you, and it will go a long way to bringing you back to your...other handlers."_

_Revan glared at the Watcher for his choice of words. When put that way, he sounded more like a whore on a leash, to be bandied and traded at the whims of his masters. He still did not fully understand why the council would follow this thing's demands. Perhaps they were indebted to him in some fashion. Or maybe it was the threat he represented. The Watcher clearly knew the Jedi's dirty secrets, but how he was involved remained a mystery that no Master would divulge. _

_Revan was only told to follow this one's orders...no matter how distasteful they would be. Not that he was given much choice in the matter. Still, what else could he do? It was not like he had a will of his own. _

_The thought of those terrible memories back at Solace and his involvement with Raithe jolted his anger momentarily._

_"Why did you decide to send me there?" he demanded suddenly. He rose from his bed and fixed his glare at the mysterious black robed figure. The Watcher tilted his head to the side, as if observing a particularly interesting insect._

_"You're mistaken Jedi. I didn't decide. She did."_

_And there it was. When Revan had refused point blank to follow the Watcher, he simply replied that Revan owed his life to her back on Solace. _

_He immediately knew who the Watcher was referring to. The woman in his dream vision. He had told no one about that person, but the Watcher knew she had touched him in his deathless state. Who was this person? And how was it that she could reach out to him in such a manner? At the strangest of times, he could feel her presence on the outskirts of his mind, no more than a cool breeze on his skin. Other times, he could feel her fill his entire presence with her light, like a blazing star on the verge of a supernova._

_Curiosity had overridden his better judgement at that moment and after a long internal struggle, Revan decided he would follow this mysterious person, if only to get some real answers. But the Watcher was nothing if not cryptic. _

_"Stop avoiding the question," replied Revan dangerously._

_The Watcher did not immediately reply, choosing to use his unreadable expression instead to gauge the other man's temperament. Revan didn't care if he was under psychoanalysis or not. He had to know._

_"Why the elaborate charade? And don't say it was to test me. You could have revealed yourself earlier and told me in person,"_

_That seemed to amuse the Watcher. "Would you have believed me? As Raithe has probably said, you are conditioned to react in certain ways. A week ago, you would never have believed the Jedi to be capable of such...extremes. She predicted that Raithe would return to his birthplace and saw this as an opportunity to open your eyes. And only with such indisputable evidence could she have been able to alter your course of judgement."_

_Revan was not convinced. He took a menacing step towards the gaunt figure. _

_"Do not think to play games with me Watcher. I may be forced to help you, but that doesn't mean I will kowtow to every instruction you give me like a mindless droid."_

_He repeated his question with soft menace._

_"Why. Did. You. Send. Me?"_

_The other man seemed unconcerned with the threat in his voice, although it was almost impossible to tell from his vacant expression._

_"The truth? It was because we didn't trust you. We could not be sure that you would make the right decisions in the future. As solid as your psyche was, there were...anomalies in your behavior observed in the past that she found disconcerting. We had to be sure you were...stable."_

_Revan felt his pulse quicken and rage emerging to the fore. With a deep breath he pushed the anger away. He replied in a low voice._

_"she was worried I wouldn't follow orders? Or because I wouldn't fall into her nice little box of plans?"_

_"Yes," replied the Watcher cryptically._

_"And because of this, you saw fit to...test me? When the fate of that world was on the line?" he said incredulously. The Jedi couldn't believe the callousness of these people. The woman in his visions had always presented herself as someone compassionate, the paragon of fairness and morality._

_Maybe she isn't as benevolent as he thought._

_The Watcher replied in his cold calculating voice._

_"All life is a test Revan. You may not like it, but mortals are made to dance to other people's tune. Every interaction has a reaction. It may be through conscious effort or it may not. But in the end, people manipulate each other to reach certain goals. Through money. Sex. Threats. Your test was simply on a larger scale. To judge if you were worthy to ...help her," _

_Revan didn't reply immediately, he paced the large empty room like a caged animal, unsure of what to do in this unenviable situation. There was truth in the Watcher's words. Of manipulation. Force knows Revan had done it enough to other people. Whether it was on Chiron, where he had used his charisma to sway Ailene to help him or on Solace when he had been goading Melara to dance to his tune. _

_Revan thought nothing of it when he did it, but when he was on the receiving end..._

_The Watcher just continued to look at him emotionlessly._

_"You should be content Jedi," he remarked eventually. "You passed the test,"_

_"Passed?" he echoed incredulously. "I let Raithe get away. A deranged lunatic who plans to unleash an avatar of destruction onto the galaxy. Now he has a fortress and Force knows what else at his beck and call. I hardly consider that success,"_

_The Watcher shook his head._

_"That is not the point. What mattered is that you stayed true to your calling. That you maintained your loyalty despite the staggering pieces of evidence brought before you."_

_"And for that you were willing to risk the lives of a dozen Jedi. That stinks of hubris and arrogance."_

_The Watcher shrugged as if he didn't think his actions were that horrific. Most likely, he didn't care. _

_"We do not have the luxury of being the heroes everyone thinks the Jedi are. Despite what your Masters parrot to you, they have had to make huge concessions to maintain the illusion of stability within the Republic. To maintain their power. Raithe and his brood are only one example of the price they had to pay,"_

_Revan was aghast. He didn't think the Jedi could fall any lower than they already had._

_"Only one example? What else have they done?"_

_"you don't want to know,"_

_Before Revan could argue, he raised his hand. _

_"Regardless, Raithe will be dealt with in time. Like you, he has a role to play in this galaxy and it would not be in our best interests to kill him just now. Trust me when I say that his...continued activity is a good thing for the Republic despite his intentions."_

_Revan sat back onto the hard surface that passed as his bed. He stared solemnly at the floor trying to absorb everything the Watcher had told him._

_"One last question,"_

_"Speak," replied the Watcher simply._

_"You mentioned there were...anomalies in my psyche," said Revan looking up. "When did you discover them?"_

_The Watcher seemed to be expecting this question as he blew a whispery sigh._

_"I think you know the answer to that,"_

_"I want to hear you say it," said Revan grimly. The Watcher shrugged._

_"Where else? Your final trial,"_

_

* * *

(present)  
_

A dozen figures slithered through the maze like alleyways in the Blood District, moving as quietly as possible. Among the rapidly traveling group, three of them had to be supported and if any bystander did manage to catch a glimpse, they would have realized two were bound and gagged. But in a world as dangerous as Darith, it was almost the entertainment of the night. Beggars and street whores looked the other way, fearful that they would be caught in the crossfire of Reeka's mercenaries or enemies.

Eventually these silent individuals came to a tunnel entrance leading down the abandoned subway system. The tunnel was blocked by a huge metal gate with solid hinges. Kynes approached the entrance and whispered something into the gauntlet on her right wrist. A short pause later, the metal hinges retracted. The group took one last look around to make sure they were not followed and slipped into the darkness.

The intrepid force eventually arrived at one of the abandoned subway facilities that littered the underground complex of Darith. In its former glory days, it had been an efficient system of transport. Now it was a deathtrap of scavengers and mutant mercenary rejects. But most importantly, it was away from the prying eyes of Reeka the Hutt. Even the hideous slug would think twice about searching such a dangerous enclosure. But for T'shere and her subordinates, it was the perfect hiding spot. Stealth, guile and an efficient detection system ensured no enemies would dare to invade this temporary sanctuary.

When they arrived, the prisoners were immediately transferred to the lower levels of the subway station, where they would be prepared for interrogation.

"I'll take care of it," Kynes told Mysteel. "Just get the commander patched up,"

Mysteel nodded and directed the scouts to help the wounded. After they were taken away to the infirmary, Mysteel asked Arctet and the remaining scouts to help bring her injured sister up to her room. They helped T'shere into one of the many office rooms that used to be for administrative personnel.

When they arrived, T'shere was strong enough to support her own weight. She freed herself from their grasping hands.

"That's enough freebies for one night," she told her subordinates. She smiled to take the edge off her words. The scouts shared a chuckle.

"Need any help?" Arctet asked.

In response, Mysteel shoved her baby sister into the other man's surprised arms.

"Can you take care of her for awhile?"

Arctet was about to protest that he was a scout, not their babysitter but eventually ended up sighing and shrugging his shoulders. He probably deserved this.

"Oh and remember, no peeking in the little girl's room!" she warned with mock severity to him and the rest of the scouts, mostly males. They were playfully pushed out (with many groans) from the room. Mysteel blew them a kiss and slammed the door behind her.

Arctet looked at the sleeping blue bundle in her arms.

"Quite the mission, eh?"

* * *

Mysteel helped Tshere into a metal chair. The Arkanian groaned quietly from the jerking sensation as the Twi'lek gently guided her into the seat. The Twi'lek then brought some bandages from the dresser and started tugging at her sister's ruined shirt. T'shere grabbed Mysteel's arms to stop her fussing.

"Stop that Tails," she said in an annoyed voice, snatching the bandages from her sister. "Why is it everyone on this team wants to take my clothes off or cop a feel?"

Mysteel giggled. "Now that's a stupid question,"

A dim yellow light hung above their heads. Gentle wafts of recycled air from an overhead vent blew into Tshere's silvery hair as she started to patch herself up.

"Bastard got me good." The Arkanian grumbled softly. She gingerly touched the exit wound where the lightsaber cut. T'shere noticed sourly she could smell the cooked meat where the weapon had struck and cursed the bastard that had inflicted it.

"Scars build character." commented Mysteel brightly as the Arkanian took off her top. Tshere grimaced with every movement.

"Easy for you to say, she muttered. I'm the one who has to bear it." T'shere began rubbing an anti-sceptic onto the burnt area. She gritted her teeth with every dab.

"Just be glad he didn't fork you through." Chided the Twi'lek gently. She sniffed at the Arkanian's shoulder.

"Hmmmm, smoky."

Tshere slapped the other female on the arm. Mysteel just laughed and pinched her cheek.

"Now, now" she tutted. "I can't help it if you smell good"

"Shut up and find me a new shirt," scolded her older sister, smiling nonetheless.

While she rummaged through the drawers, Mysteel made an elaborate show of looking around. "Y'know, I bet the boys would pay me a lot of credits to get a peep show going."

The Twi'lek winked at her as she handed her another dark shirt. "I'll cut you in forty percent if you're into the idea."

In spite of herself Tshere smiled. Mysteel always joked about the most inappropriate things, and that was one reason Tshere was so fond of her. Still, this was no time for joking around.

_The mission comes first._

"Alright, time for my favorite part of the job. Let's sweat the prisoner and find out where the Butcher is hiding.'" Said the commander as she put her black top on. She stood up and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the dresser.

"And by that I mean I want to ask him twenty questions while I poke him with my sword."

Lucidae's orders had been clear. Find out where Malleus was hiding. And discover what the Butcher had found so interesting that it warranted his Cult's attention. Despite her undignified defeat, they had managed to gain ground on both objectives. With enough pressure, Malleus' lackey would reveal the Corrupter's location. She just hoped her reinforcements would arrive in time to make the intel count.

And just in case the pawn didn't know what the Sith Lord coveted, she had taken Reeka's agent as insurance. Even though the agent never mentioned the weapon by name, he must know _something _about it.

T'shere smiled at the thought of the creative torture techniques Kynes could inflict. Her particular background made her a perfect interrogator.

She glanced back to see Mysteel who did not seem to appreciate her sense of humor though, as a feint frown creased her normally jovial features.

"Actually, I don't think he's the one we're after." Said the Twi'lek doubtfully. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's not a Sith at all."

T'shere nearly choked on her wine before giving her sister an incredulous look.

"You're kidding. We caught him dealing with one of Reeka's agents. His arrival at the tavern conforms with our timeline intelligence."

She unconsciously rubbed her livid wound.

"And based on our little dance in the alley, he's definitely got the skills."

As an afterthought she added.

"And the asshole attitude."

"You're just miffed he didn't fall for your, 'let's go for a tumble routine.'" Mysteel teased gently prompting a glare from her sister.

"That's because he plays for his own team," snapped the Arkanian. "No real male could resist my charms." She flipped her silvery hair in a haughty gesture.

Mysteel giggled at the proclamation. "No argument there." She leaned against a dirty wooden table.

"Besides he's too pretty to be one of Malleus' lackeys," continued the Twi'lek. She gave an appreciative sigh. "Such a pretty face. With the nice black hair, dreamy chiseled features…"

"So the Cult was smart enough to send someone who didn't look like he pulled his face inside out." Persisted T'shere stubbornly, refusing to even consider the notion that they had captured the wrong person. Mostly because she had been humiliated twice by him.

"If you recall, just looking at his henchmen would send anyone screaming into the night. That tends to prevent negotiations."

Her counterpart though did not look convinced. T'shere was getting annoyed, a common occurrence.

"Any more bright ideas, Tails?"

"He wasn't wearing black…and his lightsaber is blue?" Mysteel remarked. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

T'shere rolled her eyes.

"That's…a horrible argument."

"It's the best one." stated the Twi'lek proudly. One of her tentacles came up to her hand, and she wrapped it around her finger idly.

"Didn't you know? Lightsabers are color coded for our convenience. Just like Twi'leks!"

Mysteel chuckled softly at her own quip.

"Whatever." Said Tshere dismissively. "Next you're going to say he's a Jedi."

"It's true!" Persisted Mysteel enthusiastically. She hopped onto the old table, its hinges creaking in protest at the weight. She started counting off her fingers to make her point.

"The red, purple and grey Twilek's are always evil. It's written into their genetic code! The rest of us, the blue, yellow and oranges? We're the nice ones. Oh except green. Green ones go either way. Kinda like you."

She put a finger into her mouth and smiled luridly.

"Now that's hot."

Mysteel didn't wait for an answer to her ridiculous theory, laughing that melodic sound so many people found alluring. Tshere just rolled her eyes.

"Your reassuring evidence notwithstanding, I'll be glad to give him a red smile any day."

She cracked her knuckles at the prospect. "Eye for an eye and all that."

"Oh, I'm sure he's not that bad of a sort," insisted Mysteel.

"How can you be so sure?" retorted T'shere with mounting annoyance. Mysteel rarely disagreed with anything she said. She had always felt uncomfortable around the other man. Not always in imminent danger perhaps, but something about him was definitely off. Like his face was simply a façade to something else. But Mysteel seemed perfectly fine with their enemy, despite having knocked him unconscious hours ago. Now, the Arkanian felt a tinge of jealousy that her sister had sided with someone she didn't even know.

"I'm beginning to think you wanted the bastard to kill us. Two less nagging sisters to deal with."

Mysteel's smile had disappeared then and she folded her arms underneath her breasts. "That's not funny," she said hotly.

"I'm just saying there's a chance we screwed up and if so, he probably deserves a lot better than what we've given him so far."

"Right, he's a saint. Probably didn't get that part since he was too busy ruining my perfect features!" T'shere snapped. There was definitely a mounting tension in the air now as both females refused to back down.

"Maybe he did you a favor. Now you won't spend so much time preening in front of a mirror." Retorted the Twi'lek.

T'shere stood up in a sudden rage, ignoring the pain shooting out of her shoulder. The situation had become ugly. While T'shere was older and in command, both sisters had a stubborn streak and neither did not want to admit their faults.

"I guess that just leaves more sods for you then. One of your boy-toys could kill us all and you probably wouldn't care! You were probably holding back, hoping the bastard killed me so you could take my place! Is that it?"

The look of shock on Mysteel's face instantly made T'shere regret her words. Her shock was replaced by anger then as her bright blue eyes started to mist up.

"Don't even joke about that!" The Twi'lek's voice was trembling. "If anything happened to any of you…I would…" Mysteel trailed off then as she began to cry.

T'shere's anger faded as quickly as it came as she realized her words had crossed a line. She quickly walked up to Mysteel and embraced her sobbing sister.

"It's okay." Tshere whispered softly. "Shhh stop crying, I'm sorry I said that."

She patted the golden skinned female on the head.

The Twi'lek sniffled, resting her head on the other's shoulder. Both of them stayed quiet for a long time, letting their emotions settle back to normal.

"I was scared you know…" Mysteel remarked eventually. "When he brought you down. I thought he killed you. I'm just thankful he didn't."

T'shere nodded and in a soothing voice added.

"I know you would never hurt me intentionally, you've always got my back."

Mysteel turned to look Tshere with a mischievous smile.

"But that didn't stop me from knocking his lights off though. I wasn't that thankful."

They both chuckled at those words. The two sisters spent some more time in silence, just being comfortable in each other's company. Times of respite were fleeting and they cherished those quiet moments they had with each other.

When they had both composed themselves enough, Tshere said in a stronger tone. "Come on. We don't want to keep our guest waiting. I'll scope him out, get a sense of where he's coming from. If he's not one of Malleus' lackeys then I'll be very interested to know who he actually is."

The Twi'lek nodded eagerly. "Sounds like a plan. Just don't…ruin his pretty face yet."

"I'll start with his junk. He doesn't need that." T'shere snickered wickedly as Mysteel gave her a pouty look. As they started walking the commander mulled over her off hand words earlier.

_He couldn't really be a...Jedi could he?_ She thought. This was the first time the possibility had come up to her seriously. If he was a Jedi...what was he doing on this criminal world ruled by the Hutts? Surely the Jedi had no interest in the affairs of those that were not Republic citizens or that which didn't help their own needs.

Shrugging the ridiculous notion away, she walked out of the office area, trailed closely by Mysteel, who had regained a skip to her step.


	5. Chapter 5 The Interrogation

_Well, that was unexpected..._

_attributed to Mysteel_

* * *

The two females walked into a wide cavernous part of the subway complex. It used to serve as the waiting platform for the former citizens taking the trains. Now it served as the main sheltering area for their entire operations. Dim flickering lights jutted from the ceiling. The walls were grey and dusty, the former glory of the architecture lost in time and decay.

Most of the people were from T'shere's Aethon cell as well as a few local members. Men, women and children from different species were present. There were a pair of Kel Dor, a Cyrean and a Togruta that were huddled next to a fire, cooking a haunch of dark meat the cell had taken from one of Reeka's warehouses.

There was no standard uniform to identify their group. Everyone wore different varieties of dirty clothing that had been taken from the corpses of their enemies or the countless bodies that littered the dead streets like vermin. A good deal of armour and weaponry were also pilfered or taken from their enemies, necessity forcing the group to scavenge every bit of equipment they could find.

Everyone turned at the approach of the two females. Some members gave them respectful nods, acknowledging their higher status within their cell's hierarchy. Their children ran up enthusiastically to the pair, calling out their names. Tshere scooped up a younger Arkanian no older than five, her hair the reflection of her own.

"Miss us little ones?" Laughed Mysteel as she was mugged by a pair of mischievous kids, a young Cathar with bright yellow eyes, and a Draethos with pale blue skin. This reaction was a common one when the two were around, their popularity not just a reflection of the favor Lucidae had bestowed upon them. She eventually extricated herself from their tiny forms and walked over to Arctet. The yellow Twi'lek took her sister lovingly into her arms.

"Don't worry." Mysteel cooed. "We'll see mother soon enough."

The tiny blue figure gave a squeal of happiness.

Eventually though, they ushered the children back to their guardians and went into the lowest subway level, where their most dangerous hostage was being guarded. Kynes had put the agent into a separate room for interrogation. The pair approached the four armed scouts ordered to stand vigil over their latest acquisition. One of them gave the two females an airy salute as they approached.

"Is he still out?" Asked Tshere.

"Hasn't said two words since we brought him in."

She glanced over at the prisoner.

He had been stripped to the waist and relieved of all his belongings. Both of his arms were tied in front of him using fibre bundled cables with a digital padlock. He was chained to one of the supporting pillars as well just to be safe. Despite her callous opinion of the hostage, Tshere had to admire the other man's physique. Every part of his body was honed, not an inch of fat evident on his impressive lean musculature. His skin was pale from being cloaked all the time but there were a myriad number of scars on his chest, pectorals and abdomen, like badges of honor. This was as fine a human specimen as could be hoped for.

_Too bad he's gay._ Tshere thought snidely.

"Don't worry, the bastard isn't going anywhere. I made sure to up the dosage," said the guard, thinking she was worried about security. The commander nodded absently.

The other man had his head down to his chest but Tshere wasn't sure if he was faking unconsciousness or not. She knew never to underestimate this individual, one of the few who can say they took her down in battle. Only he and Lucidae had ever done that.

"Kynes did an inventory of their belongings." remarked the guard, bringing the Arkanian out of her reverie. He waved his hand vaguely to the pile of equipment they had liberated from the dark haired warrior. They were stacked neatly on a table a few meters away from where they stood.

"Oooh, look at all these toys!" exclaimed Mysteel as she bounded up to veritable treasure trove of items, full of curiosity.

"What did she find?" asked T'shere.

"Well the agent, he carried the usual stuff, a blaster, the tracker you bugged him with, some credits and an emblem that identifies him as Reeka's property...but the other guy? Well…let's just say he's got a lot of toys like your sister said,"

Tshere could see that for herself as she walked up to join Mysteel. The Arkanian recognized his lightsaber, a communicator, a digital recorder, and a data slate. Some of the other bizarre equipment she didn't recognize such as the flat metallic disc and another which looked like a scanner of some sort.

"His lightsaber looks so cool" Mysteel remarked. She picked up the silver metal shaft, admiring the weapon. The craftsmanship was indeed exquisite, with a straight smooth hilt and no blemishes despite constant use. The only consent to extravagance were several strange runes etched on the shaft which she didn't recognize.

While the Twi'lek was turning the handle around, she got zapped with a current of electricity. Mysteel yelped and dropped the weapon back onto the table with a loud clatter.

"Stop touching his junk!" snapped T'shere. Her sister stuck out her tongue.

"I'll stop because you used a double entendre not because you asked so nicely."

T'shere snorted and continued her appraisal. She noticed a pair of gauntlets and thick grey cloak. There was also a dented blaster well worn with use and a utility belt. At the corner of the pile, were some tiny marble like objects but Tshere had no idea what they were for. Still most of these objects seemed…tame. She had hoped for some sort of item that would have identified the prisoner as a member of Malleus' cult. A fingerbone, flaying knives…

"Did you find something…more sadistic?"

The guards looked at each other, a strange look on their faces. One of them pointed at a satchel next to all the equipment.

The Arkanian opened the bag and found a... uniform. It was clearly tailored to fit someone with a feminine physique. She stared at it in bewilderment, wondering of all the things, why a Sith Lord would need someone else's clothes. A trophy of some victim he tortured?

"Is this his?" she asked suspiciously. The scout nodded.

"Maybe it's a fetish of his or something"

Mysteel laughed. "Oh, there you have it Sis. How could I ever have doubted he was from the Cult? Then again, I lost some of my underwear the other day so somebody on our team must be secretly on their side too. Personally I think it was Arctet but…"

T'shere snickered in amusement and tossed it back to the pile.

_Sick bastard…still…not what I was looking for._

Her mood improved considerably when she saw the next few items, whistling in appreciation. Lightsaber focus lenses, power cells and magnetic coils.

"Quite the armory he has here." T'shere said out loud, looking at Mysteel triumphantly. Her sister made a harrumphing noise.

"That doesn't prove anything. Don't Jedi keep stockpiles of that stuff anyways?"

The group had been running low on weapon supplies lately, and they did not have the materials and credits necessary to maintain their most valuable weapons. The gauntlets alone looked like they were worth a fortune. This man, whoever he was...had just generously donated a wealth of resources.

_I might even keep his cloak as a trophy. It looks pretty warm. _

"That's not all," continued the guard. "Kynes found a credit pad."

Both Mysteel and T'shere looked at each other.

"How much?" the Twi'lek asked curiously.

"According to her...enough to buy a small planet or clean up at any auction. She sent the pad to the hackers. They're trying to hack it as we speak."

The triumphant look hovered from T'shere back to Mysteel. "Does this really look like the Cult's M.O.?"

"They're probably adapting," said the commander doubtfully.

Her sister had a point though. The Cult didn't care about credits most of the time. Once they found out where the auction was, they would just go in and take what they wanted. Then again, a Jedi would not carry this much money either.

_Who are you then?_

She turned back to the other guards.

"All right. We'll take it from here. Give me the keys."

"You sure?" Asked the guard in a worried tone. "What if he tries something?"

"Surely, you have more confidence in us than that?" Said Tshere with a trace of indignity.

"Well...he did take you down..."

Mysteel gave the guard an alarmed look while making a cutting gesture over her neck as the words left his mouth. The scout realized what he just said and remembered that Tshere did not like being reminded of defeat. He swallowed nervously. The Arkanian glared at her subordinates until they shrunk back.

The other scout hastily tossed the digital sequencer to the prisoner's locks back to the commander, then gestured for the other men to leave with him.

When they were alone, T'shere glanced back at her sister who looked indecently pleased. The Arkanian blew a sigh.

"Wipe that smug look off your face…I will concede that there is a _chance_ he might not be who we're looking for."

Mysteel rolled her eyes as Tshere took a clear vial from one of her pockets.

"What was that T'shere? You're saying I was right? And you're sorry for being so mean to your little sister?'"

"You're Jedi theory doesn't fit either." Retorted T'shere, ignoring the Twi'lek's sarcasm.

"Members of the false order don't carry that sort of money around. He's something else."

She could tell Mysteel wasn't convinced, but she decided not to press the point.

"But if he's not from the Cult, let's see who he really is,"

She uncorked it and carefully put it under the nose of the young man.

The captive jerked suddenly, his nostrils filled with the pungent smell. The man's dark eyes opened. He scanned the dark empty room rapidly before settling on the Arkanian.

"Hello again," said Tshere smugly. She could see that despite his precarious predicament, the other man did not look intimidated. In fact he was sizing her up even now, trying to see what weaknesses were evident in her body language. One slip up, and he would make her pay.

_Good luck with that._

The Arkanian squatted down to look at him at eye level. She smiled sweetly, her posture relaxed. Some would say it was even enticing. The other man didn't bat an eyelash.

"You know," she remarked eventually. "I think we got off on the wrong foot, the past two times. With you insulting me, then me attacking you..."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Anyways, the third time will probably be the charm. What do you say we do this right?"

The other man maintained his stony silence.

T'shere took a deep breathe, reminding herself she was in control of the entire situation.

"Okay...I'll go first. I'm Tshere. The over-energized, bundle of joy over there is Mysteel. You might remember her."

She glanced at her sister who looked at the whole scene with curiosity. Mysteel was sitting next to the pile of equipment. Her blue eyes sparkled with undisguised interest at the other man as she toyed with one of her tentacles. When the dark haired man noticed her, Mysteel gave him a smile and an airy wave of her hand.

Tshere forced his face back to look at her.

"Now that's out of the way, who are you?" She looked at the other man expectantly. Her captor finally stirred.

"You're aim was to capture me and you don't even now who I am?" came the sardonic reply. His voice sounded hoarse from the kick to his throat.

T'shere stiffled her annoyance at the other man and spoke calmly.

"No, not you specifically. But like you, we know that a major auction is going to happen soon, courtesy of Reeka, the legless wonder."

She put her hands on her hips, standing back from the other man. She briefly thought of forcing him to admit he was part of Cult of the Reborn but if that turned out to be false, it would be very embarrassing. Instead she decided to grill him on knowledge about the weapon then skirt back to the nature of his identity.

"But then you come along into our bar, talking with one of his dealers. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're here to buy a very special item. Oh don't bother pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. Everyone on the local network talks about 'the weapon'. They just don't know what it is. Just that Reeka is bragging it will revolutionize the black markets."

Tshere hoped the other man would give some sort of indication she wasn't making a fool of herself with her assessment, but the other man could have been chiseled from stone for all the reaction he gave. In fact he almost looked like he was going to nod off again, probably because of lingering sedative effects. Or he was incredibly bored.

_He's not even taking this seriously._

T'shere felt herself getting angry again. This wasn't going the way she envisioned it. She leaned forward and pulled his head up by the hair to get his attention.

"Hey, focus." She snapped. He shook her hand off roughly. Tshere sighed at his obstinance.

"So the question I have for you is this, what is Reeka selling that is so damn interesting?"

More silence.

"Come on, we got you all figured out. You were caught red handed, dealing with one of Reeka's thugs. If you don't tell us what we want to know, he will, so you might as well cooperate."

"You first. Why are you so interested in the weapon?" came his reply.

T'shere gave a chuckle and stood up. Suddenly, she swung her boot savagely into his abdomen, eliciting a faint grunt. She knelt back down and pulled on his ear painfully, hissing.

"First lesson. Never talk back to me. This can be very quick and painless. I'm not a sadistic person by nature, but I have no problem with getting dirty. Either way, you'll tell us what we want to know."

She glared at the other man, trying intimidate him into submission. The prisoner just shrugged rattling his chains slightly.

"Humor me with a question first then. How did you know I was meeting with Reeka's agent?"

Seeing she had nothing to lose, T'shere decided to tell a half truth.

"Like I said, we're looking for anyone with knowledge about the weapon, which is why we setup that little farce back at the tavern. When we saw you, it was clear from your clothing you're not local. And nobody comes to this world unless they're part of the gangs or looking to buy. We figured out the rest."

"You're saying that you figured out I was trying to buy the weapon…because I stood out from the locals?"

"Not tried to. Did."

The other man did not seem to buy her reasoning.

"Figuring requires deductive reasoning. I'm figuring you did no figuring. The only thing you've figured is you've screwed up."

That earned him another stinging kick before T'shere retorted.

"I suggest you change your tone. And from where I'm standing, I'm not the screw up since your the one chained to a pillar right now."

Her captive shook his head even as he wheezed through his injured throat.

"Let me tell you what I've figured. You wouldn't pose as waitresses in that tavern, waiting for someone to fall into your net unless you had reasonably good intel that something was going to happen there. That tells me you were looking for someone specifically and you thought I fit your profile. You claim to be after knowledge of the weapon but you tried to bug me before the agent showed up, which tells me you care more about my supposed identity than what the agent had to say."

T'shere shifted uncomfortably as the other man continued.

"But then, you realized I'm not the person you're looking for, probably based on my belongings. And since you've only just realized your mistake, you're trying to save face with an elaborate bluff, and get a better picture of what is actually going on. And now, you know I know you're lying."

He finished by giving the Arkanian a bored look.

"Is that pretty much the entire picture?"

The Arkanian glared at their prisoner. She hated smart asses like him. So damn superior. A faint rumbling sound in the back of her ears was starting to ring painfully. It was her anger was trying to get the better of her. She fought it down with difficulty, trying to maintain control. Still, she decided the time for humoring was over. It was time to get to get down to torture. Her lightsaber flicked into her hand igniting with the hiss of anticipation. T'shere drew closer, placing her deadly weapon just below the chin of her victim. Tiny wafts of smoke came up as his skin started to burn.

"I can see you're just begging for a good beating, you cocky bastard."

She held the glowing hot blade in position until her prisoner grunted in pain. She withdrew her weapon ever so slightly.

"Sure you don't want to reconsider?"

Again the young man was not cowed, matching the cold stare with one of his own after he recovered from the pain. Despite T'shere's advantage, she shifted uncomfortably.

"Let me tell you how this is going to work." He croaked in a whispery voice.

"You'll rough me up, maybe take off a few of my fingers while I'll insult your choice of attire and after a couple of hours of posturing, you'll have no choice but to talk your actual leader for further…instructions, or whatever passes for command around here."

The prisoner blew out a weary sigh.

"Frankly, I'd rather cut out the middle man and get on to that part. Or if that person is currently indisposed, maybe I'll take up your offer when we first met."

He tried to shake his arms, but the heavy chains did not budge.

"You'll have to give me some breathing room. I know how you like to move around."

Tshere had to remember to close her gaping mouth. She heard Mysteel giggling at the other man's insane bravado.

Angrily, she gave the defiant prisoner a scathing forehand slap across the face, her nails digging painfully across the cheek, before slamming his head against the pillar. The impact made an ugly cracking sound. His head lolled down to his chest. The Arkanian took a steadying breath.

"What makes you think I'm not the leader, human?" hissed T'shere, contempt dripping with every word.

The prisoner spit some of the blood from his mouth before replying.

"Your incompetence is appalling. You couldn't even capture the right person. Maybe it's because you're breasts are too big. Less blood for the brain." Came the deadpan reply.

T'shere's answer to his insult was to ram her steel tipped boot straight into his unprotected groin. There was a loud crack and a howl of pain from her victim. Mysteel stopped smiling at the sudden violent display. "T'shere…" she said cautiously.

Her older sister ignored the warning tone. She waited several seconds for the man to stop gasping before putting her boot on his chest and hissing.

"Oh that's a shame. Looks like I can't take you on your offer anymore,"

T'shere flipped her hair to show her exotic ears on one side, kneeling close to the other man's head. Her voice was sickly sweet as she whispered into his face.

"Besides, you had your chance to get a good look the first time we met, and you pissed it away."

The other man took a few more gasps of air before replying in a raspy voice.

"I did notice those before. They don't match."

The silence stretched for a painfully long time. Mysteel noticed with mounting concern that Tshere's face had become an angry crimson from her habitual silver. Her bloodlust was on her now.

"What did you say?" She whispered in a dangerously low voice.

"You heard me. And after our second encounter, I imagine they match a whole lot less."

With a blistering curse, T'shere dropped her weapon and grabbed him by the neck with her left hand. She rammed her fist again and again into his unprotected face, intent on beating his leering face into a bloody pulp. Her murderous intent was thwarted though by her sister, who bodily tackled her from behind.

"Whoa, slow down there hot stuff!" Mysteel said urgently. She grabbed the Arkanian's hands and dragged her off the prisoner.

T'shere thrashed against her grip. "Let me go!" she snarled. She pushed Mysteel out of the way and took two steps towards her victim.

"When I'm done with you, you'll be talking out of your ass, and crapping out of your mouth!" The Arkanian shouted, raising her fists again.

Mysteel jumped in front of the Arkanian. After a few seconds of struggle, she managed to forc T'shere to look into her bright sapphire eyes. The sight calmed the livid female and she faltered slightly in her stance. The Twi'lek put two hands on her shoulders.

"Calm down. He's just messing with you." Mysteel soothed "Pressing your buttons."

The red haze over her vision started to fade away and the Arkanian breathed out an angry sigh. Lucidae had always said she was hot headed. And that had cost her time and again. Now, it had almost cost her their one promising lead.

"You're right...sorry." She let the Twi'lek restrain her.

"Why don't you take five?" Suggested Mysteel brightly. "I'll take a shot at this."

The Arkanian nodded grudgingly. Mysteel was always the cool headed one. She had a way with people that made them open up to her. She would probably do a much better job, especially with this creep. And she could always listen into the conversation with the myriad of security feeds scattered across the room.

"Suit yourself." With that the Arkanian left in an angry huff leaving only the prisoner and the Twi'lek in the lonely room.


	6. Chapter 6 Introductions

_Nothing happens by coincidence_

_-common Jedi adage_

* * *

Revan looked at the remaining female with a neutral gaze. The Jedi recognized her as one of the other waitresses in the tavern, although he hadn't payed much attention to her until now. The Twi'lek was quite beautiful, but Revan couldn't remember the last time a female of her species was not. He couldn't really tell her exact age, finding it hard to judge aliens over humans, but the Jedi had a feeling she couldn't be older than him.

Nevertheless this female was definitely a cut above the rest of her alluring gender. Her skin was a bright liquid gold that seemed to gleam in spite of the filthy conditions they were in. Like her counterpart, she wore a midnight black shirt, although her jacket had protective metal plates woven into the material and the shirt was not as low cut. Her trousers were tight fitting and worn, with an assortment of belts and equipment hanging from her waist.

She also had an elaborate white tattoo, the most distinguishing characteristic being the starburst with wings. Revan had seen similar designs on the guards, but theirs were on their arms and hands. T'shere's was actually on her left breast. She had unwittingly shown it to him during the peep show in the tavern. The motif was vaguely familiar but he couldn't say where he had seen the symbol before.

But the thing that caught Revan's attention the most were the eyes. Bright blue sapphires that shone like the most precious jewels in the galaxy. He could see that they sparkled with laughter and mischief. And right now those eyes were looking at him.

"Hi there, I'm Mysteel," she said cheerfully. The Twi'lek squatted a metre opposite the Jedi to look at him at eye level. She was always smiling, not in haughtiness or contempt but an honest wide smile that was infectious. Despite his precarious position, Revan felt less hostile to this person than the Arkanian.

Before Revan could reply, Mysteel continued to ramble on.

"Sorry for taking you from behind back there… okay, that sounded dirty. But you know it wasn't anything personal right? I just take the 'hitting on guys thing' too far sometimes. Imagine what I'd do to you if I really liked you."

She finished her sentence by giggling like a little girl.

Revan, in one of the few moments of his life, was at a lost for words. He couldn't decide whether this female was bluffing or really insipid.

For the sake of his own dignity, he decided to choose the former. As much as Revan felt like she was harmless, the Jedi reminded himself it was her that had taken him down quickly and silently, no small feat at that.

She returned her sparkling eyed gaze towards him, looking apologetic.

"Anyways, I'm pretty sure this was all a big misunderstanding, and T'shere well...she likes to come on strong, so I can't blame you for busting her balls...you know metaphorically. Because, she doesn't have any balls...unless you count her-"

"So this is the plan? The classic interrogation technique?" Interrupted Revan sharply. Mysteel stopped her rant, to look at him in innocent confusion.

"You think just by starting the interrogation with the prissy one, and then switching with the sympathetic one, I will actually open up to you? Just break out the torture kit," he continued disdainfully.

Mysteel looked surprised, as if the notion had never occurred to her.

"Hmm that's the classic interrogation technique?"

She leaned forward, inches from his face.

"Is it working?"

Mysteel stared at him with her wide grin, getting uncomfortably close. The Jedi didn't really know how to react to this strange person. With the Arkanian it had almost been textbook. She had been volatile, impulsive and easily manipulated. With Mysteel it was hard to tell if she even had higher brain functions.

He decided not to do anything hostile and play it safe, by answering a question with a question.

"Who are you people exactly?" Asked Revan bluntly.

"We're terrorists!" replied Mysteel exuberantly.

The Jedi just stared at her in disbelief until she clarified.

"At least that's what all the criminals call us on the local network. Damn hypocrites. I mean that's like a Hutt hating on a Rancor because they're flatulent! To be fair, we do a good deal of killing and raiding. What the criminals forget neglect to mention in their trash talk is it only happens to them. Between you and me, I think they're just jealous because we make killing them look so good."

Chuckling, Mysteel fell on her rump and rolled onto her back so she was actually looking at her captive upside down smiling all the while.

"You're…organization is devoted to fighting crime then?"

She nodded enthusiastically upside down.

That got Revan's curiosity piqued. He had wondered ever since his first engagement, who these people were. At least two had fought with light sabers, so they had members with training in the arts. Based on her description, he doubted they were Sith affiliated, and he didn't sense any overt malice from any individual here. Even T'shere, as hostile as she was to him didn't come off as an evil person. That left very few options.

_Outcasts from the War?_ Thought Revan. He doubted it though. Mysteel and T'shere were too young to have been through that terrible time. And he would have heard of them if they had. But then again, Revan couldn't trust his own memories anymore. He didn't know which parts were real. The Jedi had to be sure.

"How come I've never heard of you before?"

Giggling, she cushioned her head with her palms.

"Oh, well we tend to work in the Outer Rim where nobody gives a Bantha's ass. In the wise words of my bossy sister 'we clean up the mess that the Republic craps into edges of the galaxy.' And by that, she means all the thieves, murderers, rapists and other social abortions that prey on the edges of the Republic. Hee, hee social abortions. I gotta remember that."

"I think I get the idea," interrupted Revan hastily. He didn't want her to go on another tangent but Mysteel seemed oblivious to that fact as she rambled on.

"No, no, I gotta give you an example of how awesome we are. Like just a few weeks ago, our cell intercepted one of Reeka's supply automated convoys. It was heading to the star port, probably for some mercenary ship. The crates were packed with all sorts of stimulants, army grade steroids, that sort of thing. Well that wasn't good news for anyone as far as our team was concerned. But what could we do? We didn't want to destroy the transport and draw attention to ourselves. And that's when I had this awesome idea to switch up the cargo before letting it back on its way."

She laughed again at the memory before looking at Revan again, her sparkly eyes dancing.

"Guess what we switched the drugs with?"

"...placebos?"

"Hee hee, nope. Laxatives."

Revan stared at the Twi'lek before he burst out a snort of laughter. Mysteel laughed along with him.

"See, I knew that was funny! T'shere doesn't have any sense of humor. She just wanted to blow the cargo up. But where's the fun in that?"

Eventually Revan composed himself.

"So...based on what you've told me and our encounter in the alleyway, I suppose your looking for another criminal?" He found the notion of him being a wanted vigilante amusing if somewhat farfetched.

She scrunched up her face in thought as if deciding whether to divulge such information.

"Hmmmm, I probably shouldn't say anything..."

The female leaned in conspirationally.

"Well, without confirming or denying your assumption, we're looking for these...scary looking people." she gave Revan an elaborate wink.

"And by scary, I mean imagine someone who looked like he was the offspring of hundreds of generations of inbreeding, then got dumped into a nuclear wasteland only to be eaten and crapped out by a Rancor. Got it? Yeah...well they're even uglier than that. I bet a penis blown inside out is more attractive than these guys."

"Thanks for the visual," said Revan sardonically.

"Anytime," replied Mysteel cheerfully. "Well, we were tipped off recently that one of these...social abortions would be coming around the tavern. Heh, see what I did there? For some reason, T'shere thought you fit the profile."

Revan looked at her in disbelief. He didn't consider himself handsome, but surely he wasn't that ugly. "That's actually kind of insulting. Do I look like someone affiliated with the Sith?"

Mysteel gave him a lopsided grin.

"I guess I didn't do a great job of hiding their identity did I? Well you can't blame me if the Sith fall into villainous archetypes. I mean there's no reason why you can't be evil AND good looking, right?"

She gave a wistful sigh before continuing.

"Still, just once I'd like to find a Sith that breaks from that stereotype. Wouldn't it be awesome if there was a Cult devoted to hugging children and saving little Ewoks from trees? That'd be really-"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Asked Revan in exasperation. Just listening to the female gave him a headache.

Mysteel giggled. "Only when I'm sleeping, or eating, or fighting...or alone."

She gave him a exaggerated wide eyed stare.

"It'd be kind of crazy talking to myself now wouldn't it?"

Revan gave a tight smile at her playfulness.

Seeing she was getting somewhere, Mysteel swiveled around so she was lying on her front side then. She propped her elbows to support her face and looked up at the prsioner curiously, like a child waiting for a story. Revan somehow thought it made her more endearing.

"So," She remarked suddenly. "Since we've established you're not evil, I'm going to go waaaay out on a limb here. You're a Jedi aren't you?"

Revan hesitated, not wanting to divulge the full extent of his situation. To her, he simply nodded.

"yes..."

Mysteel's expression grew more excited than before. She clapped her hands in glee. "Oooooh, I knew it! T'shere's face going to be so red. But what's a Jedi Knight doing all the way in the Outer Rim on a world not even part of the Republic?"

"I'm on a mission," was his terse reply. His tone made it clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the weapon everyone's got their underwear in a twist about, would it?" asked Mysteel hopefully.

Revan shrugged noncommittally. "I can't say,"

"You don't want to talk about it. I get it, Order's secrets right? Don't worry, I won't tell anybody," said the Twi'lek, batting her marvellous eyes. That hardly reassured Revan, seeing as he could see her communicator in plain view.

Seeing his reluctance, Mysteel's blue eyes grew thoughtful. "Tell you what, I'll answer another question if it makes you feel more... comfortable,"

The Jedi noticed in mild surprise that one of her tentacles moved up towards her face own its own volition. She started twirling it around her hand as she chewed on her lip, looking at him playfully. Revan ignored her suggestive tone.

"Fine, where did your group come from? Who is your leader? And don't tell me it's your...'sister', because I wouldn't believe you. Did this person train you?"

Even though the Jedi had meant to goad T'shere earlier, there was a modicum of truth in his acid insults. In Revan's opinion, someone who could organize such a group must have poise and a calculating mind, something the Arkanian decidedly lacked.

Mysteel looked indecently pleased that he asked the question.

"Now that's an awesome story. Well it all started-." she stopped in mid-sentence when an angry burst of chatter buzzed into her ear. Mysteel winced.

"Sorry...uh I'm going to have to take this,"

She walked away a few paces and started talking in exaggerated hushed tones to the hidden speaker. Even though she was trying to be quiet, Revan could still hear some of the words.

"Ow, turn down the volume T'shere. What do you mean that's off limits? I'm not talking about your ass…I AM interrogating him...well if you're going to be like that…"

After a couple more seconds, Mysteel turned back to the Jedi and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.

"Sorry, Miss Fun-Bags tells me our leader's identity is off limits for…'security reasons'."

"Fun Bags?" echoed Revan. His counterpart giggled.

"My lovely older sister has all sorts of creative names for me and the rest of the merry band. She's given me a few colorful ones too...much to my chagrin. Well, I eventually got back at her with Fun Bags. Awesome right? Although at first, I threatened her with a lot worse, like Pillow Girl or Four eyed monster..."

She winked at Revan before continuing in a soft conspirational voice.

"And between you and me...her cleavage scares me! At least ever since the guys started describing them as 'gloriously hypnotic'"

Revan smirked but was still mildly disappointed, hoping to learn more about this odd group. Based on what Mysteel had told him, he briefly entertained the notion that their leader was someone who was once from the Order. There could still be a few unaccounted outcasts and renegades from the last war with Exar Kun. Perhaps there were those that felt the need to atone for their misdeeds and banded together to form resistance cells, gathering misfits and renegades to their cause. Perhaps Mysteel and T'shere were even pupils of these renegades. Still this was all speculation, nothing more than what he conjured up from scant pieces of evidence.

A memory returned unbidden. _Do not disappoint me. _ Revan shook his head.

Mysteel looked like she just realized something.

"You know? We've been talking all this time, and I don't even know you're name." Her eyes flashed suddenly, and she took on an expression of exaggerated sadness,

"Don't want to leave a girl hanging do you?" Her voice had a playful begging tone to it, like a lost waif trying to beg some scraps off a table.

_Fair enough,_ thought the Jedi. For a brief moment, he wondered what he should say. That he had not idea what his real name was? Or maybe he should use one of his many nicknames. Revenant seemed too morbid. He wasn't particularly enamoured with Revanchist either, which was what Ciras wanted to call themselves. He decided to go with the name he thought was his.

"Revan." He inclined his head slightly, having no way to move the rest of his body.

The Twi'lek nodded enthusiastically. "Awesome! Everybody calls me Tails by the way. Can I call you Rev? It has a more...personal touch."

Mysteel smiled mischievously as she said the words which Revan returned.

_I think I like her._

Surprisingly, Mysteel crept forward and sat next to the Revan, leaning on the same pillar, huffing.

"Geez, this interrogation stuff is hard work."

"Especially since you did most of the talking."

She continued to twirl her tentacles playfully before replying in a sarcastic voice.

"Hmmm, when you put it like that, it almost sounds like I've got this interrogation thing backwards. Oooh you've tricked me!"

Revan smirked, wanting to ask another question. But then she yawned, and gave a languid stretch. "Oh well, let's try this again in five minutes."

The Twi'lek spent the next few moments humming some nameless melody, seeming content to simply sit next to the the Jedi. Revan didn't mind her company. In fact at this moment he felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

_It's strange. But I almost feel...safe._

His reverie was interrupted when he suddenly became aware of a...pattering sound. Revan looked up and saw a tiny blue figure climbing down the flight of stairs. It was the infant he had seen so courageously, shield the fallen Arkanian. When she noticed the Jedi's scrutiny, the tiny kid gave a squeak of alarm and darted behind the nearest pillar. She peaked forward timidly from her hiding spot.

"You have a guest." Said Revan quietly.

Mysteel swiveled her head and opened her eyes, her smile widening.

"Sister, there you are!" She exclaimed happily. She crept forward on her knees, her arms outstretched.

"How did you get down here you little scamp? Wasn't Arctet looking after you?"

The little infant behind the pillar gave a nervous whine, looking alternatively between Mysteel and Revan.

"It's okay. He's not going to hurt you," Mysteel said soothingly. She patted her lap encouragingly at the infant.

In response, the child started waddling towards the other girl. Mysteel caught her up in her arms and laughed as the blue tentacles brushed her face. In response she tickled the baby who giggled in her arms.

Revan looked at the scene curiously. It was clear the two were not real sisters simply by their pigmentation but the bond was undeniable.

She turned her sparkling blue eyes back at the Jedi.

"Did you know, she followed me all across the galaxy? Snuck right onto our ship without anybody noticing. Not even three, and she managed to hoodwink the entire crew! Mother would be so proud...if she wasn't scared to death right now about her missing daughter. Man I really got an earful when I told her..."

The child giggled. "More missions," she said in a high pitched voice.

"No more today for you little one. I think you've had enough excitement for one day." Cooed Mysteel, patting the blue head gently.

"Isn't she cute?" She asked the Jedi, as she pressed her cheek against the baby's.

"I mean, who could harm a pretty little munchkin like that?" Mysteel looked at Revan teasingly as she said those words.

_Apparently not me._ Thought Revan. The Twi'lek was cute, full of vigor and very courageous, which was something Revan could respect. Then again, if it hadn't been for the child, he wouldn't be tied to a pillar, trading words with an insane Twi'lek.

"What's her name?"

"Oh, mother hasn't named her yet. She thinks it's bad luck to name a child before her third year."

The child looked indignant, "Fun Bags calls me Mission!"

That earned a laugh from Mysteel.

"No silly, T'shere calls you 'Mission Crasher' because you're always sneaking off with us! She calls Kynes 'Trickster' all the time too. That doesn't mean it's her real name."

"No, I'm Mission!" replied the child stubbornly.

"She really likes that word," remarked Revan.

"It's one of the first words she learned to say," replied Mysteel grinning. She always wants to follow me on my little missions, don't you, you little scamp?

She turned to Revan with a titter. "As you can see, my little sister approved of my choice in title,"

The Twi'lek's attention returned to the infant who was now pulling on one of her tentacles. Mysteel teasingly darted it out of her reach, letting the child try and catch it. The Jedi watched the whole scene silently for a few moments, deciding what to do. Should he try to escape and carry on with his mission? That would require some creative fighting, and he didn't want to start a violent scene in front of the child. That left only two options, remain a captive or negotiate some sort of deal.

He didn't particularly like the first choice. Still, Revan wondered how much he was risking in trusting these people. He noticed that the child was very comfortable around the yellow Twi'lek, something he found assuring. Children were usually good indicators of whether certain people were trustworthy. Judging from her reaction, Mysteel seemed quite safe.

_I suppose there isn't much choice._

"These Sith," Revan asked suddenly. "You believe they are interested in buying the weapon?"

"Hmmm hmmm."

"And you want to stop them from acquiring it?"

"Well, there's that. But ultimately, our leader wants to find their leader, kill him, then kill all his followers in an orgy of bloody death! Noble goals, wouldn't you agree?" Mysteel replied playfully.

She continued to play with the tiny bundle in her arms. Revan processed those words silently, wondering how he could turn this development into his favor. Eventually he reached a decision. The Jedi spoke quietly again.

"I think I could help with that."

Mysteel stopped playing with the child and stared at him, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Really? What do you mean?"

Revan thought quickly, making the lie up as he went.

"You were right before, The Jedi have a vested interest in the weapon being showcased at the auction. I was sent to make sure it would not fall into the wrong hands. If this..cult is interested in it, I must make sure they never acquire it. To this effect, I propose a...trade."

Mysteel looked at him in, a grin breaking out on her face. "you have my undivided attention,"

"Let me go to the auction. I will determine the threat this weapon represents, and if necessary, buy it myself to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. In exchange I will help you track down this cult and help you eliminate them. How does that sound?"

It seemed Revan had said the right thing, because Mysteel's broke into a gleaming smile and clapped her hands in glee at the prospect with shining eyes.

"Oh, you're awesome, Jedi are awesome! Thanks Revan. I knew you were one of the good guys!"

_There is no such thing_

Revan's face remained neutral, hoping he didn't betray his innermost thoughts.

She leaned forward suddenly, and planted a kiss on his forehead. He jerked back in surprise.

Giggling, Mysteel held up the bundle she was carrying.

"Say thank you Revan,"

Instead, the child gave a little whine, her face looking queasy. She chose that moment to hurl the contents of her dinner. Revan barely managed to twist aside and avoid being caught in sputum.

Mysteel gave him an embarrassed look.

"Yeah...I thought that soup tasted kind of weird. We'll work on that. Uhmmmm, I gotta tell my sister the good news. Thanks again!"

With that, she stood up abruptly, and rushed out of the dimly lit room, leaving the Jedi utterly alone.

* * *

"You have a gift for manipulation little sister." Remarked T'shere. The two were in the office room a short while later, where the commander had initially patched up. The Arkanian had heard pretty much every word of their conversation through their shared communications channel. While she didn't believe the captive was overtly lying, she doubted he was telling the whole truth.

_Bastard's too slippery by far._ The Arkanian did not doubt there was an ulterior motive involved.

"You'd be surprised what happens when you're nice to someone." Replied Mysteel. She looked at T'shere in mock accusation.

"I was nice dammit!" T'shere scoffed.

Mysteel rolled her eyes.

"Right and I strangle little children in their sleep. Anyways, now that we've cleared things up, we can give him his stuff back right?"

"Not so fast there Tails. He might be willing to help, but that doesn't mean we should just trust him."

"Why not?" her sister asked. "He came clean with us, and the story fits. If the he wants to help, I say we take it. Force knows we could use another hand. Or a meat shield. Hee."

T'shere sighed. Mysteel was always willing to believe the best in people. Unlike her sister though, the Arkanian had been through enough jading experiences to temper her trust.

"You trust too easily Sis. You don't know anything about him!"

"I know he's a Jedi. That's a good start."

"Him? I may have been away from the order for some time, but if I recall, they don't send kids on training wheels to death worlds by themselves. I mean he's only a teenager!"

T'shere grimaced, thinking of the indignity of being beaten by someone who might have been a decade younger than her.

"Something doesn't fit. And in case you've forgotten, the Jedi are the reason most of us are in this mess." T'shere retorted.

"I mean, what were you thinking about telling him about Lucidae? In case you've forgotten, he's a wanted criminal. If that bastard is from the Order, what do you think he's going to do? Let him have a free pass? No! The False Order isn't as nice and shiny as you think."

Mysteel gave her a hurt look. Another difference between the two sisters was the Twi'lek genuinely respected the Jedi's station. Lucidae had filled her head with all sorts of ridiculous tales of heroism and valor in ages past, when the Order was still an honorable faction. Personally, she didn't even know why the former Master bothered.

_There is no honor among Jedi, not anymore _Lucidae was fond of saying. Still T'shere didn't want to take that perfect picture away from her sister. Her innocence was worth preserving.

"I didn't mean anything by that," said T'shere hastily. She grasped Mysteel's shoulder.

"But you've got to look at the facts. He shows up out of nowhere at the same time the Cult arrives. That's more than a little coincidental, don't you think? And how would the Jedi Order even know about this auction? It's not exactly public information. We had to go through a lot of channels to find this intelligence."

The Twi'leks bubbling demeanour began to deflate.

"Look, we should clear this up with Lucidae and see what he wants to do with the prisoner. I'm sure as hell not going to send him to the auction. Granted, we should still find out what this weapon is. The other prisoner should be able to help with that. And in the worst case, I'll send Kynes or another scout, but not him."

Mysteel looked crestfallen.

"But if we get him to sit it out, he's not going to help us..."

"Then he's a very bad Jedi," retorted T'shere. "If he was really selfless, he'd help us unconditionally. Not to advance his own agenda."

"But T'shere..." Whined Mysteel. She gave her best mournful look, that had gotten Mysteel out of more jams than she cared to remember.

"No buts" replied T'shere firmly. Mysteel hunched her back in exaggerated defeat.

"You're mean," she said half heartedly.

"That's why I'm in charge,"

In a more conciliatory tone. T'shere said "Look, go talk to him, make sure he understands we'll give him a chance to help us...just not with this issue."

Mysteel nodded, her eyes downcast.

T'shere suddenly remembered something. "Wait...if you're here...who's guarding Revan?"

At Mysteel's blank look T'shere's eyes widened in horror. "You left him alone?"

Her younger sister shrugged. "Oh he's not going anywhere. We tied him up good and proper right? And there are guards at the stairs above. And none of the alarms have been tripped."

T'shere got uncomfortable again. Wordlessly, she rushed past the Twi'lek and out the hallway chamber. Sevaral guards along the corridor gave them quizzical looks as the pair jogged by them.

"Security!" T'shere snapped at them. "Converge to level B"

They hastily obeyed, following their leader through the winding corridors. In short order, they reached the flight of stairs leading to the basement level.

Mysteel looked amused and exasperated at the same time. "Don't worry Sis, like I said, he's not going any..."

They froze in front of the pillar where Revan was supposed to be chained.

"...where."

The females stared in front of them in slack jawed amazement. Revan was indeed still there, but not chained to the pillar. He was leaning in front of it, fully clothed again. All his equipment on the table had been picked up and for all intents and purposes, the prisoner was never bound. He looked at the pair intently.

"I assume we're all in accordance then?"

"How...how?" they both sputtered.

T'shere glanced down at the chains. They were still intact, meaning Revan hadn't used brute force to escape from them. The only way he could have escaped was by deactivating the locking mechanism. But that would mean...

Revan tossed her a black metal object. It was the security keychain she had taken from the guard on put onto her belt.

"You dropped this when you were having your way with me," he deadpanned.

T'shere replayed the events of the interrogation in the back of her mind. She realized the Jedi hadn't been goading her simply for insult's sake. In actuality, he had simply wanted her close enough to take the key off her belt. She had been too angry and Mysteel too distracted to notice his fingers on her waist while she unleashed her barrage of attacks on his prone form.

Once again, she had underestimated this cagey opponent.

Still, she wouldn't accept all the blame. T'shere turned her silver eyed glare at the Twi'lek who was now doing her best to become invisible, a near impossible feat given the fact she was yellow and the rest of the room was dull grey.

The only thing Mysteel could do was give her an embarrassed laugh.

"See? I knew we could trust him. Aren't you glad he's on our side?"

T'shere continued to give her a withering glare.


	7. Chapter 7  Diplomacy

_Diplomacy is a curious thing. _

_It requires observation, a mask for a face  
_

_and the willingness to exploit any weakness._

_It's a miracle anyone trusts the Jedi at all._

_-Revan_

_

* * *

_

"I should have killed you, the moment you walked into that bar," said T'shere without preamble. She brandished her weapon in naked threat at the former prisoner.

"You see sister? We can't trust this man. You should have never let him out of your sight,"

Revan was unconcerned with her tone. "If I wanted to escape I would be gone. And before you go laying blame, the Twi'lek wasn't the one who stupidly surrendered the keys,"

T'shere's face was one of pure loathing.

"Ooh," said Mysteel awkwardly, breaking the silence. "I haven't been in such an awkward situation since that time I caught Arctet fondling himself. Using a crusty old photo. Of me."

That earned a few snickers from the guards.

"Not that I wasn't flattered mind you." Mysteel remarked cheerfully. She clearly hoped to diffuse the tension that had fallen like a heavy pall in the room.

Her attempt at levity however fell on deaf ears. The sound of blasters racking into synchronous precision at T'shere's silent command interrupted the Twi'lek. She shoved Mysteel out of the line of fire and pointed her lightsaber at the Jedi who raised an eyebrow.

"I thought we've established a modicum of understanding by now."

"Like hell. I should beat you to a pulp, tie you back up and toss you down some dank pit to rot" growled the Arkanian by way of answer.

"Well, all your plans have gone so well today." Said Revan calmly. He eyed the female, with a challenging look. "Why don't you see how this one will turn out?"

More silence. Mysteel gave an uncomfortable chuckle, hoping T'shere would miraculously develop a sense of humor. Nobody else was laughing though. It seemed like a full on firefight was about to erupt in the interrogator's chamber until the Jedi continued in a more conciliatory tone.

"I have given my word to your friend that I will help you with your...quest, as long as you allow me to complete my own mission. It doesn't mean we have to like each other, but some cooperation would be appreciated."

"I have no reason to believe you will hold up your end of the bargain." stated T'shere flatly. She waved her weapon menacingly like a lightning rod.

"Why should I help you anyways? You wasted our time in the alley and cost us a promising lead. And how would the Jedi even know about this event? It's not exactly in your sphere of influence."

When Revan didn't answer, she continued in acid tones.

"Just as I thought. You are as untrustworthy as the rest of the false Order that you claim to represent."

Instead of getting angry, the Jedi's face became thoughtful.

"I can see that I will have to be the first to extend a gesture of trust." Revan remarked as he idly re-adjusted one of his gauntlets back into place. T'shere looked at him suspiciously.

"If I demonstrated I could be an…asset to your operation, will that alleviate some misgivings you have of me?"

T'shere mulled over that question for a few moments.

"It couldn't hurt."

"So be it. Take me to the other prisoner,"

"Why?"

The commander's voice was still razor sharp. Mysteel chewed her lip but decided not to say anything.

"He was going to tell me the meaning of life," replied the Jedi dryly.

That earned a few more laughs from the Twi'lek and the guards. It earned an unflattering gesture from the Arkanian involving one of her fingers.

"Why do you think? Before your merry band arrived, I was in the middle of securing passage to the auction. But because of your timely interruption, he did not divulge that information. I mean to finish the job, which should be beneficial to both of us."

"You don't say. How would a weapon of mass destruction benefit a Jedi?"

Revan's eyes narrowed at the other female's obtuseness. "Are you being intentionally dense? You claim to be wondering what item is drawing so much attention in this region so it presumably does not fall into the wrong hands. I was going to the auction to do the same thing. Ergo, we need to discover when said auction is going to be held. Now where is he?"

T'shere considered his words before replying tersely

"He's being interrogated,"

"Badly, if the job you did with me is any indication."

"Oh, and I suppose you think you can do better smartass?" she snapped venomously.

Something dark flashed behind the Jedi's eyes. Despite being supported by her guards and Mysteel, she felt uneasy at that moment.

"Let's find out,"

T'shere was about to refuse until her comm. channel fizzled into life. She tapped her earpiece. "What is it?"

"Commander," it was Kyne's voice. "you should come to interrogation room 2. There's been a…complication."

"Kind of busy here."

"This really can't wait." came the curt reply.

The Arkanian looked back up and saw Revan staring at her expectantly. She turned to Mysteel, who put both of her hands in a begging posture and gave her patented puppy dog look. Sighing in defeat to the inevitable, she turned around and started walking up the stairs.

"Follow me." T'shere said without looking back.

* * *

"We've got a problem" muttered Kynes to T'shere as she and her group arrived in the upper office room. The commander could see that for herself.

"Stay back!" Bandor snarled. He was spitting at the attending guard who was trying to gag him. The man backed away cautiously at the sight of the bloody sputum. "I'll kill myself if you don't let me go! Tell your damn leader I won't say shit until I see him!" He railed uselessly in the chair bolted on the floor. His wrists and waist had been restrained with metal clamps. The newcomers regarded the development with curiosity.

T'shere beckoned Kynes towards her. The sniper was an exquisite example of the human species, lithe and graceful. Her dark lustrous of hair shone like sinful silk just as her eyes were two black coals. She wore her trademark black gear, a tight fitting infiltration suit that could blend the sniper seamlessly with any surroundings by adjusting her heat spectra. It didn't hurt that it also showed the female's curves in all the right places.

"Have you asked him anything yet?" asked T'shere quietly.

"We didn't get that far." Replied her subordinate. "He wasn't looking so hot when we brought him in and when he woke up, it just got worse. I was going to inject him with a tranquilizer when the bastard started shaking and sweating bullets."

"You called me up just to tell the prisoner is a coward?" T'shere remarked in an annoyed voice.

"No, I called you up because he looks like he's ready to expire."

The sniper pointed at Bandor's face. His palor resembled yellow wax caught too long in the sun. The eyes were rheumy yellow, both twitchy and unfocused. He was also shaking considerably despite the warm temperature in the interrogation room. The agent's breathing was shallow and froth came foaming out of his mouth in dark specks.

_Dammit _ T'shere had already lost one promising lead tonight. She couldn't lose another.

"You think he ingested some sort of poison?" asked Mysteel curiously. "Maybe something we missed before after we captured him?"

"It's possible," replied the interrogator. "Visibility wasn't great in the alleyway. He might have concealed it in his clothing. We checked his teeth and other suspicious holes he could have shoved something in. Nothing."

T'shere walked over to Bandor who was breathing heavily through his mouth. The Arkanian jerked the agent's head to look at his eyes, which were a sickly yellow color.

"I'm the commander. What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. T'shere noticed his head was soaked in sweat and he couldn't stop shaking.

"You took something didn't you?" she said in an accusing tone.

"Did you really think I wasn't prepared to get captured in my line of work?" gasped Bandor in response. He continued to struggle futilely within his restraints. "When I started out, I knew my intel would make me a prime target for competitors, so I had a neural poison surgically implanted within my skull as a precaution."

Tshere's expression darkened at those words.

"So you could kill yourself instantly before anyone could torture you? A coward's trick."

Despite his predicament, Bandor managed to show off a shaky grin. "Call it what you want, but I like think it as my shield. It's like a Cyanide pill in implant form, but a lot harder to extract from the prisoner. And I can release a dose anytime I want."

"Like you did just now? If that's the case, you might want your money back. Either your poison was a dud, or you were too chicken-shit to finish the job,"

"You forgot the third option. I'm a pragmatist, not an extremist like you. I just wanted your attention,"

He jerked his head at the exotic set of knives and needles Kynes had set up on a gurney next to his chair.

"But if you even think of pricking me with those things, I'll empty the reserves into my brain before you can make me utter a syllable. Bang. Instant death with no chance of resuscitation. And that means no leverage for you."

Based on how sick the agent looked, T'shere didn't think he was bluffing. She mulled over his words for a few moments before turning her glare back at their unwilling informant.

"Do you know who we are?"

Bandor looked at the group for long moment. He eventually noticed the insignia on one of the interrogator's clothing.

"You're... Those damn terrorists the network is always going on about."

Tshere nodded. "Close enough. So you know what we're capable of."

"Bah, the locals may be scared of you, but you're nothing more a bunch of anarchists that get their thrills poking their noses up other people's business and blowing shit up."

Bandor gave her a knowing sneer.

"Reeka's got a bounty on your heads that's as large as his gut. And believe me, someone will collect."

Tshere was about to reply when Mysteel cut in with a chuckle.

"I like to think we're idealists. But anarchists work too," The Twi'lek walked up next to T'shere, giving her a meaningful look. The Arkanian let her take the lead.

Bandor seemed momentarily put off by the interruption. He gave the other female a level stare before recognition dawned upon her.

"You...you're that waitress...I knew there was something off about you."

"I'm a waitress AND an anarchist." she replied cheerfully. Mysteel raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I know I know, we get a bad rap, but in this economy, you gotta take any job that comes your way."

She gave him a winning smile.

"And I'm sure you're a real nice guy who's just down on his luck like everyone else on this hunk of rock. Although I guess getting captured and interrogated by us would particularly suck. Nobody wants to be screwed up the ass like that,"

"No." Bandor agreed. He then spent a long moment leering at the females through squinting eyes, focusing on their stunning figures. "Although,with captors like you, I might make an exception."

He licked his blood stained lips and gave them a lecherous stare. "You girls are the finest pieces of ass, I've seen on this planet in ages. Better watch yourselves. Sooner or later, someone's going to jump that."

Kynes and T'shere eyed him with distaste. Mysteel though didn't seem bothered by his attentions, deciding to go with the flow.

"Well, hope springs eternal! Who knows, if you play your cards right, you might actually be the first!"

Bandor tried to laugh then but ended up coughing. He hacked up some more bloody phlegm and spat it out.

"Nice try. But I'm not that stupid or sex crazed. You're not getting anything from me."

Tshere had had enough of the banter. She nudged the agent to get his attention again.

"Look we don't care about you. Tell us what we want to know and you'll be free to go."

Bandor scoffed at her reassurance. "Right, after you give me a red smile or a hole in the head. And even if you do let me live, what do you think my boss will do? Pat me on the head and say 'good job!' for snitching? Go piss off. I'm not saying squat."

Tshere gave an annoyed sigh. This was probably going to take awhile. Bandor realized that too. His expression became thoughtful. "Unless…you people make it worth my while."

_Here it comes. _

No one said anything for a long moment, butTshere's disgusted expression must have conveyed her feelings perfectly. Bandor sneered at her.

"Hey what did you think I was going to ask for? Besides, I'm not the one being unreasonable. You're asking me to roll on my boss, so I'm going to need the credits to get offworld and find a place to lay low for the rest of my natural life. As I'm sure you know, Hutts tend to take betrayal badly."

"We don't have that kind of money." Replied Kynes dryly. "If we did, we could hire the mercenaries in this sector to kill each other. Save us the weekly effort."

Bandor tried to shrug but his restraints made the gesture half hearted.

"That's too bad. But if you want information, you're going to have to make it worth my while." The swarthy man's face became lewd. "If money is a problem, we can always go back to the first option."

"I'd rather have my breasts chewed off by a Rancor" snarled T'shere. She stamped her boot emphatically on top of the sitting man's foot making him gasp in pain.

"I'm done screwing around. You either tell us what we want to know or we start giving you the happy juice."

She reached for one of the nasty looking needles on the tray. The other man began hyperventilating again and gave wet ragged coughs. Kynes walked up behind her leader and put a hand on the commander's shoulder.

"I don't think he's bluffing" she remarked quietly. "He's got classic poison symptoms...vomiting, shaking and excessive sweating. Giving any sort of stimulants could exacerbate his condition. We're probably going to have to cut a deal with him."

At those words, T'shere reluctantly backed away.

Revan at this point had heard enough. He had remained inconspicuous among the other members within the room. However, this latest development made him step forward to regard the other prisoner. Bandor recognized him immediately.

"You!" he gurgled.

"Me." Agreed the Jedi. He walked up towards the man bolted to the chair.

"I knew you were part of their…charade!" When Revan got closer Bandor started struggling again. "Stay back!" he coughed. "I'll-"

"-bore me with your very bad acting?" remarked the Jedi calmly. He grabbed the other man's skull and did a cursory inspection of his head. The Arkanian grabbed his offending arm.

"Get away from him!" snarled T'shere. "We don't need our only lead expiring because of you."

"No one is dying here, unless I kill them." Retorted the Jedi, shrugging her off. He continued to analyze the other man critically before stepping back. "He doesn't have a neural poison stuck in his brain."

"And how can you be so sure?" The commander snapped.

"He has no surgical scars on his head." Replied Revan calmly. "Unless you think they make poisons in suppository form."

"This isn't the time to be a smartass Revan." Bit back the Arkanian. "You don't know what's wrong with him."

"Actually I do." The others stared at him in curiosity. "He's an alcoholic."

There was a long period of silence before the commander spoke again.

"Oh that's brilliant," remarked T'shere acidly. "Thanks for clearing that up. Did it take being a Jedi to figure out this sleazebag probably licks lead paint off the walls? It doesn't explain why he's so damn sick."

"Actually it does. The man is going through withdrawal."

"What?"

Revan turned his attention back towards the hostage.

"You didn't order any drinks when we were at the tavern. And I didn't smell any on your breath when we talked. Like T'shere said, most people here probably drink lighter fluid just to get their alcohol fix. But you're remarkably clean."

For the first time, the agent didn't seem so sure of himself. "I don't…I don't drink during business" Bandor muttered.

"No, you don't drink period. Anymore that is."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Mysteel in curiosity.

"Look at his eyes. They're yellow...like his skin."

"So?" snapped T'shere "It just means he's unhealthy, and hopped up on all sorts of drugs."

The Jedi finally had enough of her negative attitude. He twisted his head to glare back at her. T'shere was momentarily startled at the intensity of the look.

"No, you overinflated excuse for a pinup doll! That means he's jaundiced. Which means he's got hepatic liver damage from all the alcohol he's had swilled in his lifetime. That's why his skin is so yellow, something a person with rudimentary knowledge of human physiology should know."

He turned away from T'shere's withering glare to address the rest of the crowd, who were waiting for him to continue with his explanation.

"This man is an alcoholic, but he stopped drinking because the damage to his liver was getting severe. However, his body is so used to the influx of cheap blooze, it's become dependent on frequent doses. Its absence causes withdrawal symptoms like shaking, coughing and twitchiness."

Revan waved vaguely at the pile of clothing and belongings stacked in the corner of the room.

"He probably takes supplements or cheap drugs to stave off the effects."

"...We found some stimulants and other interesting supplements in his pockets," admitted Kynes. Revan nodded,

"But he hasn't had a fix for hours now. He's passing his detox and liver damage symptoms as a death threat. In other words, he's conning you, like he tried to do with me. But then, he is one of Reeka's henchmen so it would go with the job description,"

The rest of the spectators gazes were less skeptical now, their expressions turning to one of curiosity. Even Kynes, who usually betrayed nothing raised her eyebrows marginally.

"You got all that from looking at him?" asked Mysteel in bewilderment.

"Little things tend to add up." Replied Revan evenly. "then they don't become so little."

"Heehee. If yellow skin is a sign of jaundice, I should be dead by now!"

Nobody paid any attention to her stillborn joke. Kynes turned back to the prisoner. "I'm afraid you've lost your bargaining chip."

"He's crazy," Sputtered Bandor. Everyone could see he had no conviction in his denial though. "I'm telling you I can ki-"

"Enough!". Snapped Revan. The sudden venom in his tone made everyone jump. The Jedi grabbed Bandor's jaw, forcing him to look into his dark eyes. His deadly stare pierced through Bandor's defenses, making him cringe.

"Like you, I am having a very bad day. Unlike you, I do not have the luxury of time. So this is how it's going to work. We are going to ask you a series of questions which you will answer. Every answer we do not like will result in you losing an appendage."

Revan glanced briefly at Tshere. "In the interest of cooperation, I'll let you choose which ones"

"Sounds good". Despite Tshere's antagonistic relationship with Revan, she actually approved of how this was going.

Revan looked back at Bandor. "Let's get started."

"S-screw you! You don't scare me. You're not a real Sith," gasped Bandor. Despite his

proclamation, his rheumy eyes widened in fear as the Jedi leaned in close.

"You don't know that," replied Revan calmly. He inched closer to the informant so that their faces were practically touching.

"But you shouldn't be concerned with my identity. You should be concerned with what I will do to you if you don't start talking."

The captive turned his frantic gaze at the rest of the crowd. None of them looked particularly eager to come to his aid at the moment.

"You must be very desperate or very stupid to look to me for help," remarked Tshere.

When he turned to Mysteel, she gave a wicked laugh. "Don't look at me. I'm just a fine piece of ass, remember?"

The Jedi jerked the prisoner's head back to stare at his pitiless eyes.

"Don't look at them. Look at me." Bandor did, and he definitely didn't like what he saw. It was like staring into the abyss. If he fell into their murky depths, he could never climb out.

With monumental effort, he averted his eyes and saw the Jedi's hand taking a wickedly curved scalpel from the tray of torture implements. He pressed it dangerously close to Bandor's nether regions before whispering in a very quiet tone in his ear.

"This is all you need to know. I am someone who is capable of inflicting death quickly...or slowly. I do not need any exotic tools or techniques to get you screaming in agony. In fact...if you don't cooperate, it would only take a very few choice cuts to make you unidentifiable as a male."

"No-no..."

Bandor began to hyperventilate as Revan lay the flat of the blade near his cheek.

"Then I will pry out your eyes. I wouldn't detach them from their sockets, though. I would keep the optic nerve intact, so you can see me finish cutting the rest of your body. Not everyone gets the experience."

"You can't - mpph!"

Revan clamped onto his mouth, as Bandor started to protest.

"Silence. You'll get your say in a moment. But as extra punishment for wasting our time, I think I'll finish by cutting you open and pulling out your intestines. I'll take out a meter for every wrong answer you gave me. And after I'm done, you will have the singular honor of being the only person in the galaxy to undergo strangulation with your own organs. That is if you can survive the shock of having them ripped out of your body."

A thin puddle was starting to form at the base of the interrogation floor near the informant as he began to whimper uncontrollably. Revan carefully shuffled his boots so it didn't touch him even as the informant gave muffled sobs, tears streaming from his puffy eyes. The Jedi released his hand from the agent's mouth.

"Now...what is it you were trying to say?"

"Stop!" Shrieked the prisoner, as he gulped in a breath of air.

"I'll talk! I'll talk! Just stop!"

Bandor began to weep copiously then, all trace of his former arrogance lost.

The Jedi straightened and abruptly turned away to face the stunned group. Mysteel had a look of awe on her face. Even Tshere was suitably impressed. The other man had gotten the prisoner to break simply with the threat of pain but without inflicting any actual damage. Her gaze met his own as he spoke.

"I trust this will help you get things underway?"

"It's a start." admitted the Arkanian, giving a stiff nod of respect. Mysteel, however was much more jubilant in her reaction.

"That was awesome! Is it wrong to be totally turned on by that? Can you teach me to be badass like you? Maybe we could form a club..."

Revan ignored her for the moment, focusing on the leader of this curious group.

"You will honor your part of the agreement then?"

T'shere was silent for a long moment.

"I'll think about it," she said eventually. "But until I milk the prisoner for every morsel of information, I'm not deciding either way."

She pointed a finger at the Jedi.

"Until then, you'll be supervised everywhere you go. If you even fart the wrong way, I'll have you wrapped back in chains. And this time, I'll throw the key away. Got it?"

Revan shrugged. "Just be sure to discover when and where the auction will be taking place."

"Don't worry about that," retorted the commander. "Now, I'm going to have to call up a detail to guard you."

"There's no need for that."

T'shere turned her glare to her younger sister. The Twi'lek adopted her pleading Ewok eye-wide stare, the one that had melted so many hearts.

"I'll keep an eye on him, I promise!" she begged.

"Yeah, you've done a great job so far." snapped Tshere. Instead she looked towards her more reliable subordinate. She nodded to Kynes.

"Keep an eye on him for me," Her subordinate gave a faint smile.

"You're the commander,"

Revan said nothing at this exchange but Mysteel looked understandably miffed. "Is this payback for that large ass-remark?"

"No, that would be juvenile." Replied T'shere coolly. "I'm doing this for the security of the team, something Kynes is actually good at."

Before Mysteel could protest, T'shere interrupted. "Don't you have some children that need coddling?"

Mysteel looked sulky. "The parents only ask me to do it because you have no personality."

"I love you too sweet sister,"

Mysteel stuck out her tongue but did not retort any further. As she passed by the other pair, she gave them a wink. "I'll see you guys later. I have…guests to entertain." With that she bounded off to wherever she needed to be.

With her sister gone she beckoned the sniper to her side. She whispered into Kyne's ear.

"Take him around the base, but none of the security areas. Just keep him occupied until I'm done here."

"And if he starts asking questions?"

"Use your best judgment."

Kynes nodded and threw her a wink herself. "Don't wait up,"

With that she approached the Jedi, gesturing towards the door.

"After you,"

As the non-essential personnel had left the room, Tshere whispered under her breath.

"Nothing good can come from this." Shaking her head, she then drew her attention back to the terrified prisoner.

"Now…where were we?"

* * *

_Author's note: I added a picture of Mysteel on my deviantart page. Feel free to check it out. As always constructive feedback appreciated._


	8. Chapter 8 The Weeper

_You ask me why I do what I do. Why I embark on _

_this crusade of wanton destruction and bloodshed._

_The self styled Emperor says what all whipped children say._

_My Master would give you a very complicated answer._

_My answer is simple._

_Why not?_

_-Victus_

* * *

After the initial meeting aboard the Carrion, the Sith Lord had 'escorted' the Rutian back to the local spaceport in the Blood District. Matarl had wanted to leave him there and return to base but Victus would not let him out of his sight.

"I-I need to report back to my Master,"

Victus had laughed. "Then report. But you don't have to do that in person…do you?"

The Twi'lek didn't know what to say to that, nor did he like the Sith Lord's hidden implications. Without further recourse, Matarl simply used his private transmitter to contact Reeka the Hutt.

Matarl had warned his Master that despite their willingness to participate, the Sith Lords were everything they were reputed to be: unpredictable and beyond horrific. He recounted all the travesties he had seen on the Sith Lord's vessel.

"They have no concept of decency or even empathy. They're freakin' cannibals! Forget about credits! Inviting them to this auction is just a shitstorm waiting to happen."

It was meant earnestly, but Reeka was nothing if not a gluttonous piece of filth, whose appetite for power was only exceeded by his hunger for credits.

"If they are interested…that is all that matters" replied his Master, ignoring the threat Matarl mentioned. He practically salivated at the amount of credits only Hutts could imagine. Still the crime lord was not a fool. He did not ascend through the ranks of the underground syndicate by being careless.

The Hutt eventually decided he would only allow one member to attend his precious auction, and only if they consented to an 'escort', which would drive them there. That way, the location would remain secret, without a chance of unwanted interference. Surely one Sith Lord would pose no threat to his heavily armed security detail. Reeka had ordered Matarl to convey his demands accordingly.

_Right, like that's going to work._

Surprisingly, Victus had agreed to all these demands. When it was agreed, the bloated slug ordered his underling to keep in touch with the 'diplomat' until the arrangements were finalized.

A few days had past since then. Victus had let Matarl go about his daily business, which mostly involved making drug deals and collecting protection money. But Matarl always knew Victus followed him from a distance, observing the Twi'lek's movements from the shadows. He never saw him, but somehow the Rutian could sense his proximity…a pressure in the back of his mind. It was a sixth sense he didn't even know he possessed. The Twi'lek had no idea why the Cult was suddenly so interested in him. It was almost as if they cared more for his continued survival than the auction itself.

_What the hell do they want with me? What did that…thing mean by the path?_

He didn't dare voice his inner thoughts to his escort though. Ever since he returned from _the Carrion_, he had felt anxious and out of sorts. Matarl sweated more often for no discernible reason and felt greater flashes of anger when intimidating the locals. The Rutian also noted with alarm that patches of his skin were turning palsied and grey, removing his typical blue hue. He desperately hoped he had not caught one of the many diseases that likely plagued that cesspool of a ship.

_Force take me…that meat. _

Matarl didn't even want to return to that one horrendous moment…swallowing the tangy flesh…the richness of the fluid. Just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach.

On the day before the auction, Matarl had been informed the pick up point was to be at the _Minx_, a popular tavern locale in the Blood District. Reeka had sent Racuile, his personal bodyguard, and a score of his veteran soldiers to take the Sith Lord to the hidden location. The only thing the Rutian had to do was drop him off at the tavern.

_Simple enough. _

The Twi'lek had no idea how ironic that thought was going to be.

* * *

"Well…this is it," said Matarl when they arrived at the front doors. They were standing in front of the _Minx_ where the bodyguards were supposed to receive the Sith Lord.

His companion didn't react other than to tilt his cowled head slightly to the side. The Sith Lord had covered himself in a dark cloak that naturally obscured his entire persona, which Matarl thought was for the best. His unique…visage would only cause panic in a crowded room. Although black, the clothing was strangely shiny, the material glistening palely in the neon lights. It also gave off a particularly pungent smell...like necrotic flesh.

Matarl realized then that Victus had dressed himself with the skin of the dead. Truly there were no depths of depravity these…Reborn would not sink to.

_He looks like one of the rotting corpses I see on the sidewalks everyday. Except those things never gave off this kind of foulness. Maggots wouldn't touch this monstrosity._

Matarl shook his head focusing on the present.

"Racquile and his bodyguards will meet you inside. They'll take you out the backdoor and into a transport. From there, they'll drive you to the auction."

Again his companion said nothing, seemingly bored with the logistics. His continued silence made Matarl nervous.

"Do you have any questions? About the arrangements…anything?" asked the agent uneasily. Victus turned his head at the question.

"The food…is it good here?"

That definitely wasn't what Matarl had been expecting.

"I…actually no, not really. Are you hungry?"

Victus smiled then, and showed him a set of razor sharp teeth. They were stained with the same ichorous fluid that dripped from his eye sockets.

"Always,"

The Twi'lek shuddered, knowing full well what sort of meat Victus was looking for. He resolved to be far away when that happened. "Well, good luck,"

Matarl made to leave but the Sith Lord grabbed him by the hand. The Rutian was unpleasantly reminded of the brute strength this diminuative person possessed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Victus' tone was dangerously soft.

Matarl swallowed. "I-I'm done here. Racquile will bring you to the meeting site."

"No, you still have a role to play. The Corrupter has seen it."

The Rutian pulled away, his anger flaring again. He was done with these cryptic messages.

"Look I don't know what kind of sick games your Master has you playing, but if you want me to help you, you'd better damn well tell me why I'm so important to your plans!"

Matarl marveled at his own courage as he spat out the words like venom. Even though he couldn't see the other man's face, he knew Victus was grinning at him, seemingly pleased at his outburst.

"As you wish. After I talk to your associates…I will enlighten you. How does that sound?"

Matarl nodded uncertainly. Without another word, Victus pushed the Twi'lek forward with him.

* * *

The _Minx_ was lively tonight, with many local customers in attendance. Bith, Twi'leks Vurks and Neimodians were in abundance, chattering in a dozen dialects. The waitresses were as scantily clad as Matarl remembered. The Rutian spied Reeka's henchmen taking the bulk of the center room tables with their distinctive black coats and weapons. Most of them were humans or Twi'leks, races favored by Reeka for their ability to follow orders properly. All of them were hard boiled mercenaries that had come under Reeka's' payroll. Most were laughing and cajoling each other, while others were harassing the female waitresses in the vicinity.

Matarl saw the leader sitting in the center table, surrounded by the soldiers. It was easy to identify him by his orange leathery skin. Racuile was a beast of a Kaleesh, dwarfing everyone in the room by a good two and a half feet. His massive frame always threatened to erupt from his armor, the orange sinews rippling. The chair under him creaked precariously under his prodigious size. A huge blood stained cleaver hung ominously on his leather belt.

Rumor had it that this massive beast was once a famous hunter in the Outer Rim, even an honorary member of a minor Mandalorian clan, but left after the last failed uprising. He turned his trade to bounty hunting for a while but his innate bloodlust hampered him from bringing the targets back alive…or with all their body parts. Eventually the savage beast came under Reeka's employ. He made the perfect bodyguard. Essentially a psychotic killer honed to heed a Master's call. Everyone, including Matarl tread lightly around the murdering beast.

The Rutian felt the Sith Lord's hand prod him towards the group. It seemed he wanted Matarl to start the introductions. With a sigh he walked forward to the entourage. Several members looked up at his approach disdainfully. Like most of the low level thugs, Matarl was not highly regarded by the upper echelon's of Reeka's organization. One of them drew Racquile's attention to the newcomer.

The Kaleesh looked up from the haunch of Bantha steak he was devouring, eyeing the Twi'lek.

"I thought something smelled like trash."

Matarl flushed but couldn't disagree. He must look as bad as he felt. Raquile snorted dismissively and went back to eating.

"Well? Where is the Sith Lord?" Growled Raquile between mouthfuls of meat. He gave the smaller alien an intimidating stare as he chewed.

"I don't appreciate you wasting my time, you know that? I'm beginning to think that you made this whole charade up. Probably crapped yourself before you got onto that ship of theirs."

Several of his lackies guffawed. Matarl cursed them all silently. The blood in his head was starting to boil. It was the same anger emerging ever since he returned from the _Carrion_, a swelter of hate he didn't even know he possessed.

Before the Rutian could do anything rash, Victus stepped up from behind him and into plain view.

"Greetings, he said.

The whole tavern quieted, the voices dying one by one. Nobody knew who this person was but somehow, his simple presence had captivated the attention of every patron. It was like a heavy spell had come over them and they were all drawn to the source. The mercenaries muttered uncomfortably at each other.

"As I'm sure you know by now... I am Victus of the Cult Reborn." The introduction was courteous enough, but his voice made the introduction half a threat.

Racquile's reptilian eyes narrowed at the newcomer as he approached the other end of his round table. He was the only mercenary that didn't shy away from the other man's presence. In fact, the reptile leered down with obvious contempt at the emancipated form.

Victus did not seem overly concerned by the cold reception. Without invitation, he sat in an empty chair facing the Kaleesh and took a shot glass from under the nose of another. The Sith Lord sniffed at the drink before downing it in one gulp.

A thin sigh blew out between his lips.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" growled the mercenary through his snarling maw. His tongue forked out to lick his lips in disgust.

The question was reasonable enough. Victus resembled a cadavar that had been left too long in the open, the smell of rot and decay overpowering the senses. The Sith Lord's posture was hunched, his face obscured by the lanky strands of bone white hair and his oversized cowl. His clothes were torn and frayed, not even fit for a beggar. The only concession to extravagance was the distinctive metal claw, enveloping Victus' left hand. Matarl never noticed that before. Apparently Victus had lost the appendage, but the cybernetic replacement was if anything, more unnerving.

And it wasn't just his appearance that unnerved the patrons, it was his entire aura. Simply put, Victus felt wrong, unnatural to the senses, like his very existence was an affront to them.

The Twi'lek saw various mercenaries twist their faces in disgust or spit on the floor. No one could look at him long without feeling the urge to hurl.

"I was expecting a Sith Lord, not some beggar off the streets." Said the Kaleesh, his hiss an obvious challenge. He smiled then, an ugly smile, exuding a false sense of politeness.

"It looks like someone lighted you on fire and then tried to snuff it out with their piss."

That drew some chuckles from his men.

Matarl groaned inwardly, Racuile was not known for his subtlety. Being Reeka's personal bodyguard, he inspired fear and obedience among the underlings perfectly, intimidation second nature to the warrior. He equated size and brute force to real strength, the notion of guile and cunning utterly foreign to this slavering brute. To him, the Force was a myth, fabricated by weaklings to prevent stronger beings from killing them.

It occurred to Matarl that Reeka wanted to negotiate from a position of power. The Hutt probably figured Racuile wouldn't fold to any demands the Sith Lord would make. They all knew the reputation that preceded Victus and his brood, but none of them had seen a Sith Lord until now. So far it was not going well.

_Nothing good can come of this._

The Kaleesh leaned in close, his snarling visage inching closer to Victus' face. His eyes narrowed as he whispered in a threatening tone.

"Between you and me, I don't like you. Do you know why? It's because you're weak."

He pointed a sharpened claw and poked the Sith Lord on the shoulder. Matarl gave a gasp at the disrespectful gesture, but Victus was unperturbed, making no move to retaliate. His inaction galvanized the larger beast, drawing a sneer.

"Look at you. What am I supposed to think when a famed Sith Lord shows up looking like an experimental abortion? The locals can't shut up about how your kind ravaged this world and shoved a finger up the Jedi's bung hole. But if you're what of a real Sith is supposed to be, I can't see how that's possible. You're just a bag of bones and skins that someone shat on. Weak. And weaklings have no business dealing with warriors."

That drew a few more jeers, the mercenaries drawing strength from the Sith Lord's inaction. It seemed the Reborn was not so scary after all. Just bogeymen conjured up by superstitious locals. The Weeper did nothing to dissuade that notion, seemingly unoffended by these brazen insults.

"That's too bad. Because I really like you," replied Victus calmly when the chuckling had died down. He gave the reptilian monstrosity his patented oozing grin even as he idly fiddled with the cutlery on the table. The Kaleesh narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Why?"

"As ugly as I am…you make me feel...pretty,"

Racquile's men gasped. No one ever insulted Racquile unless they wanted to pay for it with their spleen. But then again, none of them had dealt with a Sith Lord before.

For a long moment no one spoke.

Victus broke the silence by laughing, the sound both grating and unnerving at the same time. He pounded a fist on the table during his mirth. It was supposed to be a benign gesture, but the force of impact caused the wood to splinter, shattering part of the table into pieces. The grins disappeared from the mercenaries, replaced by something close to fear.

Racquile said nothing but it was clear to everyone that he was dangerously close to ripping the Sith Lord's head off. One more wrong look, a gesture…

If Victus detected the danger, he didn't care. Eventually he stopped laughing.

"But enough of this banter. Shall we be on our way?"

"Not so fast," growled Raquile. "How do I even know you're the real deal?"

By way of answer, Victus took something from the folds of his cloak and placed it on the table. Matarl realized it was a lightsaber…but of no kind he had seen before. Metal serrations extended from the grip with black blood caking every inch of the malevolent object. Whenever the wielder gripped the shaft, his own skin would be cut, bleeding fresh blood on the handle. The metal tube ended with a wicked looking spike at the bottom of the weapon. In short, it looked more like a torture implement than a weapon.

_He…cuts himself? Why the hell would he do that?_ Matarl knew Victus was dangerous. He didn't think he was a masochist as well.

"Satisfied?" Victus asked. He drew the weapon back onto his belt.

Racquile had taken a brief look at the weapon, then snorted dismissively.

"Why is there so much blood on it? Did you use that to cut off your manhood?" More laughter from his men.

"I might look the part of a savage, but even my Master has standards. Go take what credits you have for the bidding and buy yourself some new clothes first." sneered the bodyguard.

There was another chuckle, but this time it came from the Sith Lord.

"What made you think I was going to do any bidding?"

The smiles disappeared from the mercenaries again. Everyone in the tavern hushed, as if Victus had said something incredibly stupid. No one dared to break the silence.

"I hope that was a joke…for your sake you piece of trash," said Raquile eventually, in a dangerously soft voice. "Do you want me to bring you to the auction? Because I'm not bringing you there just to watch someone _buy _it."

The Sith Lord laughed again, sending chills across everyone's spines.

"Oh no, I'm not going there to watch. I'm going to kill everyone there and take what is rightfully mine."

The words were spoken so matter of factly that several guards laughed, thinking this was what passed as a joke among the Sith. Victus wasn't laughing anymore though. All traces of humor had left the Sith Lord.

"You-!" Racquile stood up abruptly, knocking the chair to the floor.

Before Raqcuile could utter another threat, Victus cut in, his voice whipcord sharp.

"_Silence you witless ingrate_."

Nobody dared to disobey, not even Racquile, who grunted in surprise at his inability to give voice. The bodyguard remained standing. The hostility in the air was palpable, now. Customers were beginning to edge out the door, knowing this could not end well.

With elaborate clarity, Victus began to speak.

"You've made your opinion of me and my Order very clear. Now let me tell you what I see when I look upon you all. I see meat. Worst, _Failures."_

There was a slight pause.

"Two hundred years ago…my Cult illuminated these same skies in crimson fire. We _purified _the ground with the blood of Jedi and civilian fodder alike. Do you know why we did this?"

Everyone looked at the speaker like he was insane…which Victus probably was even as he calmly continued.

"Because they _wanted _it. The people here were unsatisfied with how the Republic treated their world, levying taxes, and suffocating restrictions. They cried out for release like everyone does inside. My Lord Malleus, in his matchless capacity obliged them and tore this world from the Republic's bosom, freeing from their oppressors. It was given a chance to be…reborn, pure and unsullied by the choking influence of the Jedi.

Victus' voice seemed almost sad then as he talked.

"My Master…he had hoped for greatness, people that would mould themselves in his example and help tear this interstellar prison down. For that is what the Republic is you see…a prison."

He snorted in disgust.

"Instead, your ancestors formed their own little pockets of society, these… pathetic criminal syndicates. You people play at being above jurisdiction, but at the end of the day, it is no different from any other civilization in the Republic. You all go about your lives, imposing your petty rules and hoarding scraps of territory…counting _coins_.Sickening. Like watching neutered animals trying to whelp children."

The Sith Lord's tone had grown more angry with each word.

"Too afraid to break these…artificial social contracts, denying your true inner self. That makes you meat. I can see none of you worthy of the blessing my Lord has bestowed upon this world. You call yourselves warriors. Well, I _shit_ better warriors than you."

Dread silence.

The bodyguards looked at the Kaleesh, wondering what he was going to do. Racquile's eyes bulged with murderous intent. Matarl was sure he was going to flay the Sith Lord then and there. Unexpectedly though, the Kaleesh let out a roar of laughter. The other guards joined in, hesitantly at first, then with more conviction. Pretty soon, everyone was laughing.

Eventually Raquile composed himself enough to speak.

"That's it? Is that is all you have for us? This pathetic rhetoric?" He glanced at the men surrounding him.

"I hope you're all hearing this. This mewling whelp thinks he can scare us with insults! What do you plan to do us you dung-pile? Make us choke to death with your smell?"

The mercenaries laughed uproariously, Racquile loudest of all, a deep rumble coming from his throat. Eventually he managed to compose himself to speak again.

"Oh…that was good…you're a funny person."

The Kaleesh raised a hand. Every mercenary raised his weapon with practiced alacrity, drawing red beads on the Sith Lord's body.

"But now that you've finished entertaining me, you're not worth anymore of my time. Get out of this room you penniless sniveling coward. Tell your masters I couldn't be bothered to kill you, you piece of _shit_ _overspill_. You're so far beneath me, I wouldn't even use your skull to take a dump."

Victus said nothing at these insults. In fact, he ignored the threat in front of him outright, toying with the butter knife on the table with one hand while calmly pouring himself another shot. Racquile's humor gradually subsided, replaced by an unflinching glare as the Sith Lord didn't move.

"Finish that drink and you'll regret it."

Victus downed another glass, sighing in satisfaction.

Raquile finally exploded at this blatant lack of respect. With a bulging arm, the Kaleesh lashed out and gripped the Sith Lord's front robes, pulling him close.

"_Are you deaf as well as ugly? I'm talking to you, you filthy piece of shit!" _

As soon as the Kaleesh uttered those words, Victus smashed his glass onto the table, shattering the edges. In a fluid motion, he rammed the splintered object straight into Racuile's right eye. The Kaleesh roared in pain, staggering back.

One of the guards to his right instinctively shot at the Sith Lord but the shot was rushed and the blast of fire missed his target's head by a hair's width. In response, Victus flung the knife he was holding at the offender, the projectile ripping through the air with deadly force.

The dull blade cored the man through the apple of his throat and ripped through the back of his neck. Fountains of blood spurted as it pierced the guard's carotid artery and he collapsed spasmodically.

Screams and curses erupted in the tavern as the waitresses and customers shoved each other to escape the carnage while the guards raised their weapons taut to gun the enemy down. Matarl flung himself to the ground hoping to avoid the inevitable crossfire.

_Hahahahahaha _

The drone of laughter sounded like a thousand nails grinding on a chalkboard. Victus stood to his full height, his hood tossed back to reveal his pallid white hair and hideous face. Many of the guards flinched at his full ghastly appearance, a few gagging outright. Still, they poised their weapons to gun the abomination down. The Weeper grinned at his prey.

"I was hoping you would do something stupid,"

Before anybody could react, the Sith Lord threw back his head and _unhinged _his maw. It became impossibly large, like a widening chasm into the abyss. From that abyss came a high pitch scream, the keen like a banshee's wail.

Many of the soldiers staggered and covered their ears at the horrible noise, momentarily disoriented. But this was no ordinary scream. The sound grew louder and louder, causing the ground to vibrate with its timbre. Shotglasses and bottles exploded at the sheer potency of the sound.

Matarl covered his lobes in pain as the crescendo reached impossible levels. It was like someone was hammering spikes into his brain, his grey matter being ripped to shreds by the sheer pressure of the attack. His vision became clouded in a red haze.

_Blood_

Even as the Twilek rolled on the ground in pain, he realized blood was pouring out of his eyes. At that moment, he knew how Victus got his title.

It wasn't because he cried foulness…it was because he made other's do it.

Other soldiers were exhibiting the same effects, leaking copious amounts of vitae from their orifices, their own screams adding to the din, a veritable orgy of pain.

One of the victim's heads popped like a water balloon, blood and gore spraying in all directions. Others collapsed onto the floor dead as their brains liquified and oozed out of their heads. The men closest to Victus had literally exploded, their skulls nothing more than a red unidentifiable slurry.

Matarl had managed to crawl away before the damage became permanent. In his half conscious state, he saw almost all the other survivors doing the same thing.

Almost.

"Whore mongering filth!" Cursed Racquile. The huge beast had managed to resist the punishing waves of sound, rising to his full height. Half blinded, the Kaleesh grabbed the circular table in front of him and ripped it off the floor's hinges. With an inhuman roar to block the pain, he threw the furniture at Victus, hoping to crush his tormentor.

The aim was poor though and Victus sidestepped easily. The violent movement brought the furniture shattering against the wall, splinters and shard fragments exploding in all directions. The Sith Lord was unharmed but he stopped screaming. Racquile fell to one knee then, the exertion of throwing the huge piece of furniture winding him momentarily.

With a brutal motion, Victus ripped his blood-stained lightsaber from his belt and held it aloft. An angry crackle of discharge echoed before the blade erupted into life. It bathed the entire room in a bloody sheen, the weapon hissing for victims.

The Weeper laughed as he prepared to indulge it.

The remaining survivors regained their composure, shouting at each other to get into defensive formations and to stay away from melée. Victus never gave them a chance to recover. With a howling war cry, the Sith Lord leapt at the nearest throng of enemies. His movements were that of a monstrous predator, his lightsaber renting great trails of bloody light in the air.

The first brutal attack bisected the nearest guard in his path through the torso. The victim was literally split into two smoking chunks, dead before he could even comprehend the fatal wound.

The next guard screamed in terror, shooting wildly at the Sith Lord that was bounding towards him. He actually scored a pair of hits, but rather than slow Victus down, the painful burns actually spurred him forward. The Sith Lord stabbed downward with the spike on his lightsaber, the ugly metal puncturing the man's skull with a sickening crack.

Blood and brain matter spurted violently from the gaping hole, showering the Weeper in his victim's viscera. Using his latest kill as a meat shield, the Sith Lord held the ruined corpse close to himself, allowing it to soak up the withering storm of blaster fire aimed in his direction. The guard shook violently as his body was punctured with darting energy, quickly becoming a charred ruin.

With a roar of hate, he flung the hunk of smoking meat at his attackers. The guards scattered in terror at the gruesome effigy. Even as they separated, Victus was upon them, his form a hurricane of motion. A clawed hand ripped out the throat from a Neimodian, his screams turning into desperate gasps of air that would never come.

His sword hand gored another guard through the groin. Pain beyond comprehension lighted the Twi'lek's face as the horrid weapon burned through his insides. Victus sliced upwards, and the guard split open into two steaming sections, like a hot potato being cut through the center.

The sounds emanating in the room were inhuman. Most were shrieks of pain and terror as the guards were literally stripped of their body parts, thick chunks of meat only fit to be butchered.

Then there was Victus. His howls were that of ecstasy at the carnage and mutilations created in his wake. It was said that the Sith Lord's greatest weapon was hate, that it fueled every aspect of their hideous being. Victus wasn't just fueled by it, he was hate. Hate made incarnate, terror made manifest. He was literally a conduit for the endless, seething, mindless mass of turmoil that encompassed a living being, the purest creature in the galaxy.

The Sith Lord descended upon one the final surviving guards. He had thrown his weapon away and was screaming for mercy that would never come. With inhuman strength, the decrepit monster ripped the body armor from the human to expose the soft meaty flesh beneath. Using his metal hand, Victus plunged his obscene appendage deep into the victim's stomach. Blood spurted in gouts, liberally coating the Sith Lord in more gore. Victus screamed in pleasure, as he pulled the man's innards out, lapping the hot tangy liquid that spurted into his mouth. Blood and excrement trailed down the Weeper's eye sockets, as his exertions became more violent.

In the corner of the room, a lone Twi'lek watched the macabre scene unfold. Matarl felt like he was caught in the eye of a storm. At that moment, he understood that the legends regarding the cult of the Reborn were not merely hyperbole and exaggeration. If anything they were understated. The sack of Darith, the corruption of an entire world. It was all too real. Looking at the Weeper now, he saw every horrendous experience, every negative emotion of the galaxy congealed into one horrendous being.

_How could one person have so much hate? _He thought in horror.

Victus was thrashing on the floor now, utterly consumed by the madness in his head even as his last victim died in agony beneath him, a mutilated red slurry. The Sith Lord was howling, his cries almost orgasmic. The pain and terror he inflicted was causing a sensory overload and the Weeper fought to contain the raging cauldron of emotions churning through his body.

Matarl wanted to take this chance to flee but found himself unable to rip his gaze away from the Sith Lord. There was a grotesque sense of fascination in watching such a debased creature. He was so enraptured by the horrific development, he didn't see or hear the last survivor charging for the kneeling predator.

Raquile, despite being hampered by his eye and his blood flowing freely from his head, had recovered enough to be a threat. He brought his four hundred pound frame to collide bodily with his tormentor, roaring like a prey beast. Victus was sent flying across the room to crash on top of the furniture Raquile had recently turned to kindling. His lightsaber clattered on the slick red floor and deactivated.

_Hahahahahaha_

Despite the brutal attack, the Sith Lord did not appear injured as he rose up, cackling insanely. Even as he stood, a huge shadow loomed on top of him.

"Shut up! Shut up you, filthy piece of crap!" Roared the mercenary. He grabbed Victus by the neck, temporarily halting the verbal abuse spewing from his mouth.

Racquile's massive horned head snapped forward to crack against the patchwork face. Black filthy liquid sprayed in all directions.

"I'll gut you and leave your flesh for the maggots!"

Making good on his threat, the huge mercenary, liberated his cleaver knife from the sheath on his belt and impaled the Sith Lord savagely in the abdomen. The blade sliced into the fleshy material to erupt out from his back.

Victus howled, the sound somehow more horrible than before, although it didn't have the same debilitating effects. He writhed uncontrollably in Racquile's grip.

"Die you freak." Growled the mercenary, twisting the blade even deeper.

Raquile relaxed slightly after his assault thinking to watch the Sith Lord die while he held him in his iron grip. He wanted to see the life drain away from his victim's face as he screamed in pain.

After a few seconds though, Racuile realized something was wrong. The thrashing didn't diminish. In fact, Victus seemed to be increasing his violent gyrations.

Raquile eyes widened in horror as he realized that the Sith Lord wasn't screaming in pain.

He was screaming in pleasure.

"_Yesss...!" _ The black ichor spewed out of Victus' mouth where blood should have been. Suddenly, the Sith Lord's distinctive metal hand lashed out to grab Racuile's iron grasp. He tightened it inexorably, causing the beast to roar in pain. He tried to withdraw his knife from Victus' abdomen, but the Sith Lord held it in place with his remaining claw.

"No! Keep it!" Snarled the Sith Lord. "It's better this way!"

The expression on the monster's face defied description and in one of the few moments of Raquile's life, he knew true fear. The mercenary couldn't feel his right hand anymore, the blood flow cutting off completely from the iron grasp.

The orange claws loosened but Victus pressed tighter and tighter, until the huge mercenary collapsed on one knee in pain.

Matarl saw Victus savor every agonized roar until he heard the Kaleesh's formidable bones snap. Racquile screamed then, unable to resist the pain lancing through every fibre of his body. But that was only the beginning of his torment.

Victus' next maneuver liberated Racuile from the Sith Lord's grip. It happened without warning, his hand extended to receive his fallen lightsaber which then lashed out in a vicious arc of murderous red light.

There was a flash as the weapon cut through flesh, and suddenly, Racquile's hulking frame was tossed into the air. He tumbled away to crash near the bar counter, leveling it with his bulk.

Victus gave a shuddering gasp of pain and pleasure as he slid the ugly piece of metal out of his ruined stomach, inch by bloody inch. Finally, he extricated the full length of the blade out and let fall with a dull thunk. The Sith Lord turned his attention to the victim on the floor. The Weeper looked at the Kaleesh, sucking in great fountains of air, savoring the moment.

Racquile, a collector of countless trophies lay groaning on the floor, writhing like the pathetic mongrels he once hunted.

"Thank you,"...gurgled Victus. "That was…exquisite"

Racquile roared in impotent rage or tried to. All that came out was a choking gurgle, blood dripping from his chin.

"K-kill you..." gasped the Kaleesh. Instinctively, he tried to raise his left hand to grasp at his blaster holstered on his hip, until he realized said hand was held firmly in the Sith Lord's grasp.

Victus grinned wickedly at his defeated foe before biting deeply into his severed appendage. He pulled his head back ripping meat, skin and tendon into his mouth, blood dribbling from his jaw. The Sith Lord chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, looking at his latest prey.

"Those that turn from his light, will forever walk the path of blight." There was such reverence to the words, as if he were reciting them from some holy scripture.

"Go...go to hell" rasped the Kaleesh weakly. He tried to rise but found he the blood loss had already drained the strength from his body. Victus walked slowly towards his victim, his feet making sickly squelching sounds on the bloody floor. He knelt down next to Raquile's leaking body.

"We gave you everything…all the tools to walk in our footsteps. But you …and all your kind denied your true nature. You denied us. That cannot go unpunished."

Without further explanation, the Sith Lord grabbed Racquile's face and _sucked_ on it, his forked tongue licking the blood from his face in teasing flicks.

"What are you doing? Get away from me! Stop!"

The orange reptile thrashed weakly but was helpless to stop the abuse. His growls where replaced by hyperventilating gasps as the Sith Lord violated his skin. When the Weeper was sated, he gave a hissing whisper into the side of his head.

"Don't worry. This will only feel like agony."

* * *

From the corner of the room where he lay, Matarl was seconds away from passing out. The amount of blood was appalling, red rivulets soaking into the floorboard.

_I never thought…there could be so much pain in the galaxy._

And the screaming…so much screaming. With his last ounce of strength, Matarl turned his head to see Victus preparing the coup de grace on the Reeka's second in command.

Matarl tried to close his eyes but found he could not tear his eyes away from final death blow. His last few moments of consciousness were some of the most horrific in his life. Victus' expression suddenly twisted into bestial hate, the black fluid spurting out of violently from the slits where his eyes used to be. He held his lightsaber's spiked tip aloft for a split second before plunging it deep into Racquile's skull. There was a sickening crack as the rusty blade broke through the thick outer shell and into the fleshy grey meat within.

The mercenary's roars became screams of pain, then unintelligible gibbering, as Victus lobotomized the beast, each vicious stab launching copious amount of brain matter in all directions as the Weeper struck again and again. He thundered the next words out as the Kaleesh's epitath.

"Hahahaha! Don't be afraid! I have come to liberate you!"

The Rutian fell into blackness with the image of Racquile's tortured screams and the Weeper's insane laughter burning through his lobes.

* * *

_Author's notes: new image of the Weeper at my art page. Feel free to check it out._


	9. Chapter 9 Change of Plans

_If your intentions are pure, and your goals noble_

_then your titles mean not a thing compared to them. _

_-unattributed source_

* * *

"Are you sure?" demanded T'shere for what seemed like the dozenth time.

Bandor nodded sullenly. He had been surprisingly cooperative since Revan's stare down. The agent had already divulged the location of the auction, as well the names of certain interested parties who would be attending. The latest bit of news however, was not welcome.

"_Yes_, I'm bloody sure it's tomorrow! And _yes_, they'll be expecting him in person so stop asking! Maybe he can sneak in an assistant but nothing more since it's a hazard zone. Not to mention security has quadrupled for the grand unveiling. The boss doesn't want anything to go wrong."

The Arkanian cursed at this development. She looked at the flimsy pieces of entrance papers confiscated from his belongings. These seemingly useless scraps of parchment had ruined everything.

The Jedi's profile had been marked on the documents. That could be altered, but the cipher sequence on the paper was specially generated so it could not be duplicated with any equipment they had.

_When it rains, it blows chunks of shit as well._

"And you have no idea what the weapon actually is? How did you attract potential buyers if you don't know what the damn thing does?" snapped the commander.

Bandor shook his head wearily. "For the last time, I'm just the damn messenger, little better than a paper pusher in Reeka's food chain. This weapon is top secret. Maybe the slug found a way to mix his bile and piss together so it explodes. But if you want real answers, you'll have to get...get him to see it"

His voice trembled slightly at the mention of his earlier interrogator.

_That's the problem. I don't want him anywhere out of my sight._

"And what about the Cult of the Reborn?" T'shere asked urgently. "What do you know about their involvement? Are they coming or not?"

"Honestly? Can't say for sure, since it wasn't my job. All I know is Reeka wanted to keep their negotiations a secret. I mean if you were an auctioneer, would you really want to know that _they_ would be coming as well?"

T'shere stared at the prisoner silently for several seconds. Having gauged his posture and tone of voice, she was reasonably sure Bandor was telling the truth as he knew it, which made it all the distressing.

_Damnation. This wasn't the plan at all..._

Their primary objective had always been to find Malleus' base. T'shere had hoped to nab the emissary sent on the cult's behalf so she could extract that knowledge. But with the case of mistaken identity, she had lost their one link to the Corrupter.

That left the auction.

But now, T'shere was beginning to even doubt the veracity of their initial intelligence about an emissary. And the only way to confuirm was through a Jedi that T'shere loathed and trusted as far as she could throw a starship. She couldn't risk that. Maybe it was her pride talking, but it was too risky sending an outsider, much less one of the False Order to do their work for them. They would have to find an alternative means to the Cult.

To further complicate things, Lucidae would be arriving soon. Her former Master had mobilized from their base shortly after the Arkanian reported they had found a supposed member of the Cult. They would have regrouped and taken the fight to the enemy.

At least that had been the plan...

_What am I supposed to tell him?_ She thought angrily._ Oh by the way, the Sith Lord I told you about? He's actually a Jedi but I couldn't tell the difference because apparently I'm color blind!_

She didn't believe in coincidences but it had to be an extraordinary piece of bad timing to run into Revan when she had. T'shere was silent for many moments, biting her lower lip until she was aware that the remaining assistant was looking at her pointedly.

"Well? Do we call off the operation?"

T'shere nodded her head bitterly. Another miss. Another failed attempt. It seemed the Corrupter would escape justice once more. As much as she hated to concede, she was responsible for this…catastrophe.

_This mission was supposed to prove myself. To prove I was worthy of this command...damn that Jedi. Damn it all._

"Do you want to tell Lucidae or should I?"

"I'll tell him," Replied T'shere wearily. "Force knows he's used to disappointment from me."

Without another word, she walked out of the interrogation chamber, leaving her subordinate to deal with the prisoner.

T'shere walked into a sparsely furnished office room one level above the interrogation room. She looked at the portable subspace transmitter, attended by a pair of her technicians. She jerked her head to the door.

"Give me the room."

Her subordinates looked at each other before shrugging and leaving as she bid. T'shere manipulated the computer console to establish an active connection. After a few moments she could hear static feedback from the other end of the channel.

"Verify your identity" came a distorted electronic voice.

"Commander T'shere - Aethon" the Arkanian replied curtly.

There was a few moments of silence as the droid processed her voice modulations and cross referenced it with their internal systems.

"Voice identity verified. Command?"

"I need to talk to Lucidae," said The Arkanian.

"Confirmed. Processing."

As she waited, T'shere tossed her hair to one side and folded her hands under her infamously ample breasts. Not for the first time, she realized she was beginning to regret ever making fun of her sister. She thought 'Tentacle Girl' had been quite witty at the time, but apparently Mysteel's name calling abilities had been better.

After a few more seconds, the distorted electronic voice was replaced by a real one. It was soft but resonant, carrying the weight of wisdom and command.

"T'shere". The disembodied voice said.

"Master,"

There was a slight pause. "You haven't called me that in a long time. Is something amiss?"

"You haven't taught me anything worthwhile in a long time." retorted the Arkanian. Despite her words, she smiled slightly, knowing no one would see it but her.

"But...I guess I miss those times."

"If only those days could spring eternal." agreed the voice wistfully. T'shere nodded to herself, not daring to agree out loud.

"I could have done with a lot less 'accidents' though". Both of them laughed at the memories where Lucidae would constantly lecture her about patience. In retaliation, T'shere would offer to 'clean' her Master's clothing only for it to return two sizes shorter, much to his dismay. Many would say they had the classic stubborn Master and pupil relationship.

"But I'm sure you did not contact me just to reminisce."

"No, we have a...problem." Grudgingly, she also told him about their botched attempt to capture one of the Cult's members. T'shere also went on to tell him about the auction and how it was happening sooner than they expected. However, she deliberately left out the Revan's identity and offer he gave them, not wanting to draw Lucidae's attention to the Jedi. After she had given her debrief, there was an uncomfortable pause, the only sound being her own husky breath mingled with occasional static.

"That is troubling," said Lucidae eventually. "It seems you will have to compensate until we arrive."

"How?" asked T'shere. "We don't have an invite for the auction. Security has become a lot tighter. I think our recent...escapades in this sector has triggered Reeka's paranoia. The guest lists are extensively screened, and trust me it's a very exclusive list."

There was another period of silence before Lucidae spoke softly again.

"You mentioned you caught two people during your previous raid. Wasn't the other...?"

"One of the potential auctioneers." admitted the Arkanian. She knew where this was going.

"That seems to be a possible alternative. Make him an asset. He wants to be at this event anyways."

"No" said T'shere through gritted teeth. "That person is not viable."

_Never trust a Jedi. Honorless dogs._

Her voice must have betrayed her thoughts because she heard a faint sigh.

"T'shere..." came the voice's admonishing tone. "You do remember I was your Master for many years, do you not? And I could always tell when you were lying."

"I'm not lying," she snapped. This was the reason she hated talking to Lucidae. He always managed to see through her like brittle glass.

"Then you are hiding something,"

"We can't trust something of this magnitude to an outsider," insisted the Arkanian stubbornly.

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me who this person is."

The Arkanian mulled over her options, wondering if she should tell the truth.

_Why not? It's not like Lucidae trusts the order any more than I do. _

Out loud she answered. "From the false order,"

"You captured a Jedi?" Lucidae's voice was measured but she could tell he was still disturbed by the words. "are you sure?"

T'shere shrugged even though no one could see her.

"My sister seems to think so though. Personally though, I think it's a bluff on his part, a bargaining chip perhaps so we wouldn't kill him too quickly. But…he does have the hardware, the skills and the holier than thou personality."

She added the last remark with a sneer.

"But he is too young to be a Jedi Knight. An initiate at best, but that doesn't explain why he's here alone. He was also carrying a prince's worth in ransom money. No normal Jedi has those kinds of assets."

T'shere deliberately skipped the part in her report where this supposed fake Jedi had defeated her in single combat.

"A Jedi this far in the outer rim..." Lucidae's voice held a trace of wonder. What could they possibly want out here?

"He claims to be after one of the things that we want. The weapon...'so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands'"

Considering who he was supposed to be, T'shere found that statement very ironic.

"I find that very hard to believe." Replied Lucidae skeptically. "the Jedi do not have any presence this far from the Galactic Core. And this information is a closely guarded secret. We only discovered it because we actively monitor the planet's activity."

"Be still my heart, we finally agree on something," said T'shere wryly. "Which is one of the many reasons why we cannot trust him."

To her disappointment, her Master didn't seem to agree.

"We may have to. This...auction is the last link towards the Corrupter. If there is to be any hope of killing Malleus, it will start there. And we know next to nothing about the weapon in question except its destructive potential has garnered the interest of those wretches."

Before T'shere could protest, Lucidae abruptly changed his line of questioning. "what is this supposed Jedi's name?"

"Why do you care?" said T'shere with mounting annoyance.

"If he is not a Jedi, you wouldn't know him. Even if he is who he claims to be...well we all know how much the Order's loyalty is worth."

"Some Jedi are worse than others. And if he is from Coruscant, I may be...acquainted with him."

"I doubt it, he's pretty young. And I don't think I've seen him before either. If he is a Jedi he probably trained somewhere away from the core worlds."

"Still. The name?"

T'shere sighed.

"Revan."

The silence stretched on much longer at that moment. T'shere thought momentarily that the channel had been cut off but she her acute hearing caught the Master's soft exhale.

"Are you still there?"

"I am..." the Master's voice had changed, taking on a distant quality.

"Do you know this person?"

"No,"

It was T'shere's turn to be suspicious.

"Why the hesitation? Wait...you do know him!"

"I swear upon my honor, that I have never met this person T'shere," replied Lucidae solemnly. The Arkanian relaxed marginally. She didn't think her former Master was lying but he was definitely hiding something as well.

_Master...how many secrets do you keep from me?_

Shaking her darkening thoughts away, she continued. "I'm going to call off the operation. It's too-"

"No, we are going to do this, this Jedi will help us gain access to the auction. If he has as many credits as you claim, he should be able to acquire the weapon for himself easily, thwarting the Cult. To that effect, we can delay Malleus' departure from the system, using the weapon as bait and give us the time to arrive."

"You can't be serious!" gasped the Arkanian. "There is no way this could possibly work."

"Is he opposed to helping us?" asked Lucidae archly

"No-, but I'm not about to send an outsider, much less a Jedi alone to-"

"He won't be alone. You will be monitoring him."

"Not to mention he doesn't know any of our protocols-" continued T'shere stubbornly.

"You were never a stickler for rules T'shere," interrupted Lucidae pointedly. The Arkanian cursed her master under her breath.

"But if you are so worried about him falling out of line, send Mysteel with him. She loves going on-"

_"_You…_You have got to be shitting me!"_

The words left her mouth before she even realized it.

There was a stunned silence.

"T'shere..."

"I'm still in charge of Aethon Cell Lucidae." said T'shere hotly, still trying to process the audacity of his words. The blood started pounding between her ears, an uncontrollable tide of red. T'shere clenched her fists to fend off her anger.

_I can't believe he would ask me to entrust my sister to that filthy human!_

"You might still be the ultimate leader, but you don't get to call tell me how to run my team!"

This was a familiar scenario between the former Master and pupil, heated arguments that inevitably left a sour taste in her mouth. Mostly because her Master always got his way. But he was no longer her Master. Not really anyways.

"There is no need to get so angry at me T'shere."

"No reason to get angry?" Her foul temper threatened to fully engulf her reasoning. It was one of her worst flaws. For as long as she could remember, this simmering blackness in her soul could emerge at any time, usually not by her choice. And right now, it had taken hold.

"You're telling me to risk my team, not to mention my sister on a complete stranger from the order who we turned our backs on! I'm pretty sure that's grounds for going pissed off at you!"

"It is worth the risk. We cannot let the Cult do any more-"

"You know what I think? Interrupted T'shere sharply, acid dripping from every word.

"I think you've lost perspective. You're so obsessed with killing Malleus, you'll endanger this entire organization just for any hope of finding those bastards! You have no proof they will be there! Just rumours and your 'feelings', like always!"

"This is the most solid lead we have had in a long time," countered Lucidae firmly. "Do not think of going to the auction as a setback. The best quality of a leader is to turn a disadvantage into their advantage."

"Spare me your pious sermons!" snapped T'shere "What if Victus shows up in person at the auction?". "Or force forbid, Malleus himself? You know as well as I do they would tear us down with a glance. You are risking my sister's life on a sliver of hope that we can find them! It reeks of desperation."

"I'm not sending her on a fool's errand. This is a calculated risk."

"All you care about is revenge Lucidae," pressed T'shere vehemently. "Don't try to convince me otherwise. You're always telling me I fly off the handle too easily, but you're just a damn hypocrite,"

"This is not about revenge," Her Master's voice had become weary, pained. "It's about justice and the safety of the Republic. How could think otherwise?"

T'shere suddenly felt tears in here eyes, her anger ebbing away at the implacable tone of her Master. It was the same tone of voice he used whoever he was disappointed with her. He never said it to her face, but she could always tell.

She was a disappointment. He regretted ever taking her under his wing.

Her bitterness at the thought made her stubborn in spite of her receding anger.

"No..no, no, no, no, no. How many times do I have to say it before you get the picture? I will not risk one of the most important people in my life on a suicide mission." she snarled.

Both Master and pupil were at an impasse. Neither wanted to break the silence for fear of what old wound they would open next. Eventually Lucidae spoke again in formal tones.

"Is that you're final answer, commander?"

"Damn straight," Said the Arkanian through gritted teeth.

"That is...unfortunate."

The Master was silent again for many moments, deciding the best course of action against this immovable obstacle. When he spoke next, it was with great reluctance.

"I'm afraid...I'm going to have to call in my favour,"

T'shere's blood froze, becoming colder than ice. It was her turn to become as silent as a statue. Her Master was content to simply wait for her to respond.

"You...you can't do that." She whispered through trembling lips.

"I have to T'shere. For the good of the galaxy,"

T'shere was too furious to respond. She pounded her fist on the communicator, making a fair sized dent into the metal plate.

"Are you hurt?" the voice was garbled now, from the damaged console.

"I didn't ask to be saved Lucidae! You should have just left me to die on the day we first met,"

"You know that I could never do that," her Master replied softly.

Her tone became pleading.

"I will follow any other order you want to give me Master. Anything but this..."

The other voice had become as quiet as a ghost. "I can't"

T'shere felt leaden, defeated again. The silence seemed to last an eternity, only punctuated by the occasional crackle of feedback.

"So be it," She said with finality. "The team will be briefed accordingly."

"Thank you," There was an awkwardness to his voice after the Arkanian's angry outburst. "if it makes you feel any better, Thalia is coming with me. She misses you and her other two daughters."

Lucidae's words were meant to be conciliatory but the Arkanian heard none of it.

"Go to hell. Master." With that, T'shere cut off the channel. For the longest time she did nothing but clench her fists in and out, trying to contain down the violent torrent of emotions inside of her. She failed.

"I wish Malleus had taken us instead of you. Damn you..._Damn you_!"

With those words, the livid female punched the wall, this time drawing blood. Distantly she felt pain, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil she felt inside. Defeated, T'shere leaned on the wall next to the console and wept bitter tears.

* * *

"For a Jedi, you are incredibly inquisitive. Most of those I've encountered come off as complete dullards." remarked Kynes as she walked side by side with Revan, a quartet of guards following them from a respectable distance.

The Jedi shrugged. Despite her friendly demeanour (compared to T'shere), Revan didn't think for a second she was simply trying to make small talk. He knew the dangerous woman was trying to further her own agenda, to make him slip something up with a casual remark. Kynes had an easy air of a trained killer, and her flawlessly sinuous movements resembled that of a hunting cat.

Still, as far as 'escorts' went, the sniper could have been a lot worse. In the hours that followed after the interrogation, she had given Revan a tour of their base of operations, showing him the mess hall, the armory and living quarters among other things. It was amazing what they could do with such dilapidated surroundings. The sniper even introduced him to dozens of their intrepid group, which seemed to include an assortment of species from all corners of the galaxy.

He saw Rodians, Bith, a Nataulon, other Twi'leks, a pair of wookies (Revan belatedly remembered they were from the bar. Kynes called them Left and Right) and an abundance of humans as well. Even the ages of these inhabitants varied greatly, ranging from toddlers to grownups.

Many were repairing and cleaning a wide assortment of equipment including blaster rifles, RPGs, sniper rifles and even light sabers. Revan took special note of the weapons. Most of the equipment looked in disrepair, maintained by scavenged or non standard parts. Children were threading torn clothing or washing them in a sulphurous brine. Others were cooking scraps of food, the aroma of some unidentifiable meat wafting up in the air. Most of the people Kynes introduced him to gave the Jedi polite but distant greetings, reluctant to trust an outsider and never with more than a terse 'hello'. Kynes didn't let him get anything in beyond that. It was clear she didn't want him to eavesdrop on any information that might slip up.

All in all, they seemed a tattered group of bandits, dirty and unkept. However there was a gruff efficiency as they went about their business, every member doing their part for the good of the team.

Kynes was also agreeable enough to answer some questions but only in the most general sense.

"The ambush was impressive," Revan remarked at one point as they walked. "Well coordinated. And your marksmanship is commendable."

Kynes didn't blink at the compliment. "I assume you have a point?"

"I'm curious how your group fits in with the rest of...this," said Revan, gesturing at the dozens of people around them as they performed their odd set of tasks. "There must be some sort of hierarchy to this chaos,"

"You want to know more about our infrastructure," she stated flatly. Revan nodded.

"Not unreasonable, if there is to be a future partnership, wouldn't you say?"

Kynes eyes flickered for a moment and she shrugged. "I don't see the harm in that. It's not exactly classified information."

She shrugged and began talking in an oddly clipped voice, like a scout giving a debrief from a mission.

"This is Aethon cell, named after our _modus operandi_. It is one of many we have operating at the moment, consisting of assets between thirty to forty per group. Each cell had dedicated specialists. There are the technicians who maintain our equipment and hack into the local network, then the scouts who specialized in infiltration and sniping. This is complimented by the common soldier types who make up our ranged auxiliary. Mysteel and T'shere would be classified as 'assault specialists', men and women who had close combat training and engage up close and personal. You've seen the noncombatants, the women and children that are tasked with the more mundane parts of any encampment, such as cooking, cleaning and field repair."

As she spoke a gaggle of children ran between them, trying to catch each other. They laughed and jostled their way through, oblivious to the grownups during their play. Kynes let pass on them on their way before continuing.

"During any given mission, we deploy members into squads comprised entirely of a given type of specialist. Overall command of the mission is usually given to the person with the most field experience within the cell to coordinate their entire efforts. Squads vary depending on engagement scenarios. To give an example, if we were trying to raid a convoy, we would send in their assault specialists. Tonight, it was an ambush, so we sent in our scout squads."

Revan listened intently as the sniper talked, admiring how she relayed the information in such a concise and detached manner. He thought the doctrine was effective if somewhat uncreative. War was a fluid mechanism and required second by second transitions. What if there were unforeseen enemies? And if one of the specialists squads became casualties, then their whole strategy could unravel. He didn't necessarily think specialist teams were a bad thing, but he would have organized the members to form tactically flexible squads. That way if a whole squad became understrength, they wouldn't lose an entire specialty. Revan's attention was brought back to as the sniper finished talking.

"...and that's a basic overview of our command structure. Satisfied?" asked Kynes. She gave him an appraising stare.

"I have another question," said Revan

"Of course you do," his counterpart remarked dryly

"Why were Mysteel and T'shere part of your sting operation? Wouldn't that be a job for scouts?"

Kynes gave a throaty chuckled, the first time the detached woman came close to expressing any emotion. "Oh it usually is. But the commander was ...persuaded by her sister. And Mysteel is enamoured with disguises, some say unhealthily so. She makes it a point to be part of an undercover mission whenever possible. And admittedly, both are quite good at deception, but with their mother, I suppose it is not surprising."

"Their mother," echoed Revan. "who might this gifted individual be?"

"Personal backgrounds are not for discussion Jedi. I'm sure you understand," replied Kynes coolly. Her words were brusque with no room for negotiation. Revan met her gaze as they walked.

"In an abstract, paranoid sort of way, yes,"

The sniper tilted her head to the side as if gauging his reaction.

"But then again, you like to figure things out don't you? Let your imagination fill in the blanks."

Revan shrugged. "I guess I'll have to be satisfied with knowing you defected from the Republic army,"

It was an offhand remark, but the other woman's mask of indifference dropped for a nanosecond to show a hint of worry before being buried again. Still, the sudden tension in her body language was enough to make the guards raise their weapons at the Jedi.

"What makes you say that?" Her voice much more colder now.

"I'm no expert...but your doctrines bear a striking resemblance to those employed by elite commando units in certain regiments." explained Revan calmly.

"Also your knowledge of subterfuge and flawless infiltration operation displayed in our first two encounters suggests extensive espionage experience. Very few organizations give that sort of training,"

"You must not have that much experience dealing with mercenaries then." replied Kynes, keeping her voice level.

"Many groups give their subordinates elite military training. For all you know I could be a Mandalorian."

"Your equipment suggests otherwise," countered Revan. He jerked his thumb back at their escorts.

"They're carrying blasters standardly issued by the Army. Even their gear is military grade issue, admittedly of older mark variants and stripped of their iconography. But Republic nonetheless. I'd wager your consume was one of the more valuable items in the army's arsenal."

He waved at the skin tight polyfiber stealth suit the sniper wore. This time, Kynes did a better job of masking her emotions.

"Pure supposition. We could have gotten our hands on this equipment anywhere. In case you haven't noticed, you're on a planet ruled by criminal syndicates. The black markets are teeming with illegal weaponry, most of them siphoned from the Army. You may have an eagle's eye for detail but so far…all your theories are just that. Theories."

The Jedi blew out a thin sigh. "Stubbornness does not suit you. It is one trait you shouldn't take from your commander. And evidence never lies."

He pointed at her most distinguishing feature, her sniper rifle strapped to her back. This time, Kyne's mask cracked just a little as the Jedi spoke.

"An Executioner rifle, Hydra pattern. Republic experimental prototype weapon. Fires .32 calibre solid rounds capable of ripping through standard shields and armor. Automatically adjusts the bullet chamber for air and temperature conditions to achieve optimal firing solutions. Given only to field agents with exceptional hand to eye coordination and kill ratios."

Revan raised a hand before she could protest.

"And before you say you got it from a pawn shop, these weapons are specially keyed to their user. It contains a gene marker mechanism that identifies the wielder so it can never be fired by someone else, making it...priceless."

Kynes unreadable demeanour finally gave way to shock. She obviously didn't expect him to know all that.

"How?" she demanded.

"I met a Sullustan with the same weapon. Although he had the Salamander variant that fires energy shots, which is more powerful but has a longer cooldown. He was part of an expeditionary reconnaissance force I…dropped in on. Taught me a thing or two about the army's tactics. Small galaxy."

Revan finished by looking at her archly. "But since you're nowhere close to retirement age and you weren't dishonorably discharged because you still have your sidearm, your presence here would make you...a deserter of the Republic Forces."

Kynes raised a hand and the guards unclicked the safeties of their weapons.

"Bravo." Said the sniper acidly. "So you've gleaned my little secret. What else have you deduced I wonder? For your sake, I hope it's very little."

Revan didn't seem concerned by the renewed hostilities, making no attempt to reach for his lightsaber,

"What do you expect me to think? I see you along with men and woman of fighting age, abandoning the Army to fight for a terrorist cell. And based on what I've seen, I'd wager the rest of your group is formed from the dregs of society. Men, women and children that have been lost in the huge bureaucratic machine that is the Republic or just families torn apart by conflict."

Kynes didn't say deny or confirm theses statements but stared at the Jedi with her soulless blue eyes. They continued to glare ominously at each other for several seconds before she hissed.

"So what now? Are you going to condemn us for leaving our posts? Enact some frivolous law to hold us in contempt?"

The men around them tensed, anticipating a struggle. Instead, Revan shook his head and said quietly.

"No...I was going to say...good for you,"

The sniper blinked at the words. "You're not...mad that we're deserters? That we've forsaken our oath to defend the Republic?"

Revan shrugged. "Is your cause any less noble despite your lack of a better title? Are your intentions not pure? Since you protect the innocent and defend the galaxy, what right do I have to judge you?"

Everyone relaxed at the praise. Even Kynes seemed moved by his words,

"I'm beginning to think T'shere was right, you can't be a Jedi" she breathed. The sniper looked at him appraisingly. "Answer truly, are you really from the false order? Or someone who just moonlights as one to get what they want?"

"Yes" said Revan neutrally.

That cracked a smile from Kynes. She gestured at her guards to lower their weapons.

"I think we'll get along just fine...Revan. As long as we keep our past affiliations to ourselves."

She jerked her neck and the train of people resumed walking. Her gait was markedly less tense now.

"Still," continued Revan, "I can't imagine everyone here has a spotless record. You probably have recruited from fringe worlds. That must attract all sorts of...unsavoury individuals."

"We do attract the odd assortment of murderers, rapists. All prior history is forgiven when you join our group. We take what help we can get."

Kynes didn't seem overtly bothered by this admission. At Revan's inquiring stare, she added. "Don't worry, the people with seedier backgrounds in our group have definitely become reformed."

"How do you know for sure?"

Kynes expression became hard again.

"Let's just say any malcontents... were dealt with."

At her vague answer, Revan just shrugged and walked on. Eventually they approached mess hall again. It was sparsely populated with rows of rectangular wooden tables. Some of the benches were attended by people eating from the pots of stew in the center of each. Kynes led him to one of the benches that were now occupied by two people. The Jedi recognized the older one as the youth he crossed paths during his attempted escape. He was trying to feed the Twi'lek, but was getting more of it all over himself than in her mouth.

At their approach the boy looked up.

"Hey Kynes, rough day eh?"

The sniper gave her protege a lazy smile.

"Not really, stick with us more often and you'll see this is how it usually goes down,"

She took an empty bowl and began to spoon from the bubbling pot on the table. Arctet's attention turned towards Revan. His eyes widened as he realized it was their prisoner.

Kynes caught the worried look and smiled. "Oh don't worry, he's not our enemy. Actually, he's going to help us. And Revan might look scary, but he's on the level. For a Jedi."

Arctet's eyes turned even wider.

"Wow, no wonder you didn't kill us. I mean...that's against the rules of your Order right? To kill the defenseless?"

"You had a gun," Revan pointed out. Arctet shrugged. "I meant her," he replied, gesturing to her little charge.

At this point Mysteel had entered the dining hall as well. The Twi'lek looked around and spotted the quartet at the far end of the room. She smiled and waved, walking towards them.

Revan noticed she immediately drew the attention of the diners near her, subconsciously drawing from the innate charisma that went with being a female Twi'lek. Many smiled in greeting as she past by. Some of the males closer to her age, gave her appreciative whistles and cat calls. In response, she winked at a couple of them and blew a kiss.

"I see my little sister hasn't managed to escape yet," said Mysteel as she drew near. With a seamless sleight of hand, she produced a piece of candy into her fingertips and held it teasingly at the younger Twi'lek. The girl squealed in delight as she tried to catch the darting treat.

"Yeah I told you I was sorry about that," said Artect. He had turned a distinct shade of red.

"Oh that's okay. She's takes after her mother. So smart…and nimble!"

The younger girl had managed to snatch the candy into her palm before her older sister could take her hand away. Mysteel planted a kiss on her forehead for a job well done. The child laughed and sucked on her reward.

"So what story did you tell the kids tonight?" asked Arctet off-handily as he tried to resume the arduous task of feeding.

"Oh I was just telling the story about the story about the little Ewok. Great story, lot's of screaming, what with the sand people and all."

"Since when does a child's story involve screaming and monsters?"

"What can I say, it's the little one's favorite." Replied the Twi'lek cheerfully. She bent over and scooped up a bowful of the hot stew everyone was sampling. Mysteel sniffed the contents and made a nasty face.

"Bantha stew again. Remind me to shoot the cook."

At Kynes and Arctet's surprised expression, Mysteel giggled. "I'm being T'shere. It's fun!"

The three of them shared a chuckle.

"I'm glad I'm such a source of entertainment for you"

Mysteel looked like she had suddenly been caught with her hand in someone else' purse. She turned with elaborate slowness towards the source of the accusing voice. Kynes and Artect both looked sheepishly away but Mysteel just smiled innocently at her sister.

"It's a compliment, when I grow up, I want to be just like you." replied the Twi'lek sarcastically.

"I've been looking for you," said T'shere ignoring the jibe.

"And I've been trying to avoid you, since you've been so mean to me today,"

The commander gave her a tight smile. "Is that any way to treat the bearer of good news?"

"That depends….did our guest say something useful?"

"He said enough for me to make a decision."

Everyone looked at her expectantly even as T'shere gave Arctet a level stare. He got the message well enough.

"I'll-I'll go put your sister to bed," he said hastily. The youth got up abruptly, taking the Rutian with him. She waved at them as they left.

T'shere took his seat at the table before elaborating. She looked at the Jedi when she spoke next.

"I've decided to let you pose as a buyer, just like you were planning to do before,"

Revan nodded, but wasn't naïve enough to think that this piece of news came without any strings attached.

"I'm sensing a but…"

The commander's piercing gaze lingered on him with what seemed like dull resentment before turning to her sister.

"She's going with you."

Mysteel broke into a pearly white smile before clapping her hands in glee.

"Oooh, really? I get to play dress up again?"

T'shere favored her with a faint grin. "Did you really think I wouldn't look out for my golden nugget?" She tried to look happy for the Twi'lek but Revan could tell the effort was forced.

"Oh, I take back everything bad I've said about you today. Even the one about your huge rack forming an independent ecosystem! You're the best sis!" She rushed up to the Arkanian and put her into a suffocating hug, showering her with kisses.

T'shere let her sister paw and fawn over her for a few more seconds, before nudging her back and addressing Revan directly.

"Let's get this straight. When you're both in the field, you follow my orders to the letter. And I expect full access to your comm. frequency. Got it?"

Revan nodded, deciding not to rile up the Arkanian any more than she already was. T'shere seemed satisfied with his answer.

"The operation starts tomorrow. I'll brief you fully in the morning and make sure you know the M.O.D. In the meantime, get some rest, all of you."

Without waiting for a response, she gestured Kynes to follow her. After they left the room, Mysteel immediately went on a one sided debate on what she wanted to wear.

While she was off in her own little world, Revan thought about what had just transpired. He knew this wasn't something T'shere wanted herself. She practically had to grind her teeth to admit to this course of action. Again he wondered who their mysterious leader was.

While he was musing, Mysteel poked him in the shoulder, startling the Jedi.

"Hey aren't you listening? I asked what kind of disguise did you want?"

Disguise? repeated Revan, breaking from his reverie.

"Of course! We can't just go as ourselves. What with me being a wanted albeit gorgeous vigilante. So first things first things first, we need to give ourselves a new identity. Any ideas?"

Revan shrugged noncommittally. "Since your sister and Bandor thought I was from of one of the many Sith fraternities, I see no reason to dissuade Reeka's pets of that notion."

"Awesome!" Exclaimed Mysteel in delight. "That's perfect. You've got the scowl down pat. And almost everyone I've talked to says you've scared the piss out of them so you can totally pass it off."

Before Revan could formulate a reply, she continued on her tangent.

"Now...what should I go as hmmm." mused Mysteel as rubbed her hands mischievously. She looked indecently pleased at the prospect of disguising herself again.

"I can't go as a Sith. I don't have any slutty clothes and besides, I hate black..."

She paced back and forth, letting her tentacles bounce in rhythm with her gait while Revan just stared at her. After a few moments Mysteel snapped her fingers and said

"Aha!"

She turned back to her would-be partner in crime.

"I can go as your bodyguard!"

"...what?"

"Sith Lords always bring meat shields around wherever they go right?" exclaimed the hyperactive Twi'lek as she jumped up and down, clapping her hands in glee.

"It's perfect! I just have to find something to wear! Oooh, and I've got some body paint that will make me all red and evil looking!"

"...you're going to paint yourself red just to look more evil?"

_If I don't listen to her words, they can't kill my brain._

Revan tried to resist the urge of rubbing his head even as Mysteel gave him a conspirational wink.

"There's gotta be a reason for the stereotype right?"

Mysteel took his stunned silence as agreement.

"Great, so you're a Sith Lord and I'm your latest bodyguard and current poking toy _du jour_. Heehee that sounds dirty."

"I think the bodyguard thing is enough." said Revan hastily.

Mysteel stuck out her tongue. "Hey it's my character! If I want to be pretend to be a slut, I can damn well do so! Besides Sith Lords probably have whole pens of sex slaves. They probably get more tail than Reeka the cockless wonder. Speaking of which, I wonder how that even works. Truly a question for the ages, wouldn't you agree?"

Without waiting for an answer, she clapped her hands and said in her sing song voice.

"Anyways, I better get ready. I never tried the red paint before. And all the clothes! Man I can't wait. See you in the morning!"

With that the Twi'lek made her dramatic exit, practically skipping out of the room, like a girl who just received her favourite gift. Revan sighed, wondering not for the first or last time, how he managed to get himself into this situation.


	10. Chapter 10 Path of Retribution

_Sith have a long memory. _

_We never forget_

_And we never forgive_

_-Victus_

* * *

T'shere was in a fouler mood than usual. In fact, it was probably fair to say that she could not remember the last time she had felt so pissed. And she knew with crystal clarity the source of her ire.

_The damn smug know it all. _

Ever since the Jedi had shown up into her life, it had become a parade of disasters, each worse than the next. From her first encounter with him in the tavern to her ignominious defeat in the hidden alley. It finally culminated with the verbal sparring during his capture, which somehow resulted in further embarrassment for her.

To add insult to injury, Lucidae had twisted her arm, forcing her to work with the wretched creature using a broken promise. Working with a Jedi...the very notion made T'shere feel unclean. Her teeth almost shattered when she said Mysteel should go with Revan on his mission.

_All I need is Malleus to shit on me, and it'll be the perfect day._

Without further recourse, she took out her rage in one of the few cathartic ways she knew how.

In the bedroom.

After that...farce in the mess hall, she grabbed her bewildered sniper and dragged Kynes towards her chambers. When they had arrived, she had set upon the sniper with a ferocity born partly of lust, but mostly of anger. It was a good thing the walls were built so sturdily, otherwise her guards would have thought someone was being tortured.

After the fifth time, the human was exhausted, wanting only to pass out in bed, but after a lot of physical coaxing and whispered words, they went at it again like rutting animals. A few more minutes later, and after a fair amount of screaming, T'shere finally flopped onto one side of her mattress. Exhaustion had replaced her rage then, the inner rage inside her temporarily sated. Both of them were sweaty and panted breathlessly, the air misting in the pale yellow gloom of her room.

Eventually Kynes rolled to her side and looked at the Arkanian.

"Hmmm, not that I'm ungrateful for all that, but there are easier ways to kill me you know," smirked the sniper.

She cupped T'shere's flushed face tenderly with a velvety soft hand. Kyne's fingers were incredibly nimble, able to send shivers down T'shere's spine when she cared to. She could also use the same fingers to snap a person's neck effortlessly like a toothpick.

"Something on your mind?"

T'shere turned her back on the other woman, not wanting to share her innermost thoughts at the moment.

Unperturbed, Kynes traced the Arkanian's spine with tip of her fingernails, sending shudders of pleasure down T'shere's back.

"Come on, you know you can't hide anything from me...after I've seen so much." purred the dusky haired woman. Kyne's voice was usually curt and professional among other members of the team. But the Arkanian had found a totally different side to the normally stoic specialist during their pillow talk. She had an inner hunger as well, not the same way as T'shere did, but born from a killer's instinct. It was one of the reasons why she found the sniper so alluring.

"Hmmmm. Don't stop. Can't you guess what my problem is?" murmured the Arkanian. "He's only been a pain in my butt ever since I laid eyes upon him."

Kynes gave a lazy smile as she continued to stroke the other woman's backside.

"You were thinking about the _Jedi_ during our 'session'? What a coincidence. So was I."

The sniper's smile became a wicked grin as her hand traveled down an area slightly below T'shere's waist. "I must admit, it was a real turn on watching you and Revan snap at each other during interrogation. Put two Alpha males in any two rooms and you're bound to get fireworks."

T'shere chuckled softly before asking.

"Did you find anything useful about him afterwards? Is he hiding something like I suspected?"

Kynes assumed a thoughtful look while she stroked.

"Hmm, I have nothing to tell you that you don't already know. But he's certainly...different than what I expected from a Jedi. Doesn't miss or give up much, that's for sure. I'd need more time to get a full picture."

She sounded almost respectful, much to the commander's chagrin.

"I wonder what Lucidae would say about Revan...he's a Master isn't he?"

"Was a Master." corrected Tshere quietly. "He gave up that title when he left the false order."

It was clear from her tone that Tshere didn't want to talk about Lucidae anymore. Kynes shrugged her shoulders before changing the subject.

"Well you should probably turn in for the night. Tomorrow's operation will be...interesting. And I agree, I don't feel comfortable entrusting the operation to an outsider. Especially somebody who looks like they just took off his training wheels."

That got her another laugh from her companion. Smiling, Kynes continued.

"But who knows? Maybe he can pull it off. The Jedi did get that pervert blubbering faster than a Sullustan. Granted, I'm not as smitten as Mysteel, but so far I'm impressed."

At the mention of her sisters name, T'shere gave a soft hiss of annoyance. It was barely detectable but with her acute hearing, Kynes expression suddenly became shrewd as understanding dawned upon her.

"This isn't just about the Jedi is it? You're pissed because Mysteel vouches for him."

That hit a nerve. The silver skinned beauty rolled over to face the other woman with an angry glare

"This has nothing to do with her," T'shere stated flatly, trying to keep the hostility from her voice. Kynes arched an eyebrow.

"Really? Then why do you look like you're going to implode every time she glances his way? Our little golden nugget is obviously impressed by his talents,"

"She's just playing with him, like she does with all her targets!" She spat the words like venom, utterly failing to cover up her resentment for the other man.

"What happened today...it doesn't mean a thing for the future."

The Arkanian tried to add conviction to her voice. Kynes wasn't fooled for a second. She stretched languidly like a cat after a very satisfying meal.

"You think so? I haven't seen your sister that excited since she saved that baby Togruta from the fire on Savant V."

The sniper smiled at the memory, while idly fondling one of T'shere's ample breasts.

"I thought we'd never get her to let go. 'So soft and warm' she said. Like what I have in my hand right now."

Kynes chuckled throatily but Tshere did not share her amusement. She slapped the other female's hand off her and turned over again, taking away most of the blankets.

"You're not helping,"

Her bed buddy sighed. "Is it such a bad thing for her to be friendly with someone outside of our motley group? Force knows it's about time she found someone warm her bedsheets." Kynes leaned close and blew a husky breath on T'shere's neck. "Don't you think it's a little hypocritical for her to miss the pillow talk we have?"

"Their partnership is a one time thing," growled the Arkanian, in a tone that brooked no debate. She still would not look at Kynes.

"I won't allow this...farce to get any further than it has to. We find out what the Sith are after, kill them and go our separate ways. End of story. The Jedi won't get to take advantage of her."

The commander lapsed back into silence. Kynes looked at T'shere with concern, unused to such coldness from her. "And you're okay with this operation? I know you wouldn't send Revan unless Lucidae forced your hand."

T'shere didn't deign to reply, pretending to fall into a dozing sleep.

* * *

_"Wake up."_

Matarl's eyes snapped open from his unexpected slumber. It took a few moments for him to re-orient himself to his surroundings. He was strapped to a wooden chair, with black manacles chained to his wrists. His weapons along with his belt had been taken away.

_Where am I?_

Matarl couldn't be sure. The room around him was dark, the cloying scent of blood and incense thick in the air. There was broken furniture around him but he didn't think he was still in the _Minx._ Judging by the dimensions, it looked like a common apartment room, the dull grey paint flaking off the walls in chunks. And there were bodies lying around him too, probably the former unfortunate tenants. Some looked partly liquefied, others were hunched against the walls.

A huge wooden table stood in front of him, slick with the blood of a freshly butchered corpse. The chest cavity had been cracked open to reveal the organs inside, except none of them remained save for a few stringy ropes of intestines. It seemed like some horrific pagan ritual had occurred while he had passed out.

_How…How did I get here?_

Matarl struggled to recall the last few moments before he lost consciousness. He remembered the fight...the blood, the Sith Lord ripping Racquile to shreds. Most vividly, he remembered the anguished screams of the once brutal mercenary.

_Victus..._

The thoughts of the monster sent his blood pumping furiously again. He tried to rise from his seat to escape, but the manacles kept him bolted to the chair. After a few seconds of struggling, he fell limp, his head pounding from the exertions.

Matarl froze suddenly even as he felt the chill presence of the monster responsible for the debauchery. Victus made no sound as he glided into the Rutian's line of sight, to stand right in front of him. He was hooded again, but Matarl did not need to see his face to know that the Sith Lord was smiling that secret smile of his.

"Hello again." said Victus like nothing was amiss.

"_Get away from you me, you freak!" _snarled Matarl. He railed uselessly against his restraints, fear flooding his battered body with new strength. The Sith Lord sighed and reached out with his metallic hand, gripping the Rutian's jaw. The cold tangy grip forced Matarl into silence.

"Stop that. If I wanted you dead, I would have left you for my aspirants."

It was then that Matarl realized they were not alone. While he had initially thought all the bodies were corpses, some were actually hunched figures stirring restlessly in the dark. A few of them sat on top of bodies with suspiciously few body parts.

_Did…did they come from their ship?_

Like Victus , their faces were obscured but they wore the same pallid fleshy clothing. And he could bet that they were all leering at him with voracious hunger, tempered only by the hand of their leader. He could hear them muttering in some language he didn't recognize, the consonants harsh and sharp against his lobes. Matarl shuddered before he mustered the courage to ask a question.

"Why...why am I still alive?"

Victus seemed surprised at the question.

"Why would I kill you?"

"You killed Racquile...his men."

"True, but I doubt you lament their loss. And as I recall, I made a promise to tell you why my Master finds you so interesting. It is only fair you know your role if you are going to help us."

Despite his unenviable predicament, Matarl actually let out a bark of laughter.

"You seriously think I'll help you, you freak of nature? After what you did?"

"Of course." said Victus matter-of-factly. "My Master said so."

"And why would he say that?"

"Because he dreamt of you."

"...What?"

Matarl stared at him, wondering for a moment if this was not just another one of his macabre jokes.

Victus took a chair that still had four legs and sat himself in front of the Rutian. He unhooded himself to look at his captive straight in the eye. The Twi'lek shied away but something about Victus' stare made him keep eye contact.

"My Master... " said Victus slowly. "...has a special gift. What he dreams becomes reality. Many touched by the Force will claim to have this ability but that is a lie. They are mere spectators and their dreams can be misinterpreted to see only incomplete facets of the greater truth. The Reborn has never been wrong. He sees the future with perfect clarity. There are nights where he thrashes for hours as his mind is filled with the reality that will be, a waking dream that is a real as anything you and I can see. You could say he _wills _these images to be true. His cries are often unintelligible, but to those possessed with a fraction of his wisdom, one can glean the truth."

Matarl became skeptical. "And...what? You're saying his dreams...led you to me?"

"Precisely. I still remember the words being burned directly into my brain. '_...and the skies will be bathed in oblivion, horror descending from the heavens like locusts of death. But before one cycle can begin anew, the scorned one must complete the first..."_

Victus trailed off ominously. Matarl had no idea what any of that meant. It just sounded like meaningless rhetoric to him.

"And what could he possibly want with me? I'm just a lowlife mercenary."

Although Matarl couldn't see, Victus grin widened.

"Oh really? Before you decided to pay allegiance to an evolutionary travesty for scraps, what were you?"

"Nothing special." said Matarl curtly, not wanting to relive the moments of his past life.

"That's not what I've been told." replied Victus enigmatically. He leaned forward uncomfortably close and placed his distinctive metal hand under his shaking chin, forcing it still. Matarl thought he was going to do something unpleasant to his face, but Victus only reached out with his other hand to show him a photo. It was old and frayed but the picture was clear enough to show four faces.

"Tell me. Do you recognize these people?"

_Why would I-recog...wait..._

Matarl's stared at the picture for a long moment, trying to make out the grainy features as recognition tickled the edges of his brain. A few more seconds and his eyes widened in surprise. He did recognize them. Especially her. Granted, they were a lot younger in the image but the resemblance was unmistakable. And the last one...

"Well?"

Matarl nodded numbly. How could he forget those faces...they were the reason his life was condemned to...this.

_Thalia...you bitch. Because of you, I live on piss and worms that I shit more often through my mouth than my ass._

Matarl realized that Victus was expecting more. He spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Yes. These people th-they are part of a...rebel faction. The Rutian woman is Thalia Vao and the younger ones are her adopted children. The Arkanian...her name's T'shere. The younger Twi'lek is Mysteel. The last...he..."

_You had no right to judge me you bastard. You're aren't even a real Jedi._

Matarl took a shuddering breath and said. "I heard your Master utter his name so you probably know. Lucidae. He is the leader."

The Rutian looked back up at the Sith Lord in surprise.

"How did you...?"

"Know them? That is not your concern for now." Victus put the picture back into the folds of his flesh cloak.

"You have a...history with these individuals, do you not?"

"I...yes. I was once part of their group. But...but they kicked me out over a disagreement."

Matarl's memory went back to when he was still a member of the resistance himself. Looking back, life back then was a luxury compared to now. He felt his hands clench into fists so tight they drew blood.

_You condemned me...in one fell swoop you condemned me to hell._

Victus saw and felt the Rutian's inner rage. He gave a flensing smile.

"You hate them. For what they did to you."

"Yes!" spat Matarl, bloody spittle launching from his mouth. "Dammit yes! They took everything from me! My money, my reputation, my ch-!

Matarl's mouth clamped shut suddenly, fearing he had revealed too much to his interrogator.

"Who are these people to you? If you want me to help you, you'd better bloody well tell me that."

Despite his better judgement, the Twi'lek was extremely curious. Matarl could imagine the antagonistic relationship any Sith would have with Lucidae. But what did they want with the females?

"The one you call Lucidae. He took something from us. It caused my Master great anguish." Answered Victus quietly.

The Sith Lord jerked his hand, forcing Matarl's eyes to look at his dark pits. He cringed but managed to hold the stare.

"Tell me Matarl, would you like to see them suffer? Would you like them to feel what you now show in plain sight?"

Matarl's expression changed slowly back from fear to curiosity.

"Yes..._Yes_! Of course I do."

"Excellent. Then help me find them. In return, I promise you all of them will experience more pain and anguish than you can possibly imagine."

His heart sank again. Matarl looked at the Sith Lord helplessly. "Look, not that I'm not interested. But it's been a little more than two years since I saw them. They can be anywhere in the galaxy by now. The group tends to move a lot, and not always together."

"Oh, don't worry. You won't have to look far. In fact, all you have to do is search this very city."

Matarl's eyes widened in surprise.

"They're here? H-How do you know that? Because your Master saw it? How can he know what he saw is happening now?"

Victus tilted his head to one side. "I could explain it in abstract terms...but you wouldn't understand. Simply put, it is the hand of synchronicity. Destiny if you want to call it that. When he met you, he knew it was a sign that the ordained time drew near."

The Sith Lord turned back to Matarl.

"We have need of your...knowledge. We want to you to penetrate their inner sanctum."

Matarl's felt his anger drain away to something close to eagerness for the first time in ages. They were here! He could finally make Thalia and her freak shows pay. Still he was cautious not to look too willing.

"Wait...couldn't you do it yourself? I mean, your master's visions. Couldn't you just go to where he saw them?"

The Sith Lord chuckled.

"It doesn't work that way. Yes, I could eventually find them, but that is not the truth he saw. What we do now triggers the events to come. And he sees you being the ultimate catalyst. For the finale as it were."

"What finale?"

Victus put a finger onto his own shriveled lips. "Trust me. It's better not to know. I can only promise it will be...climatic. Now, what say you?"

He stared at the Rutian expectantly. Matarl struggled internally for many moments, wondering what he could possibly do or say. He had no reason to believe anything the Sith Lord said.

And yet if there was a chance...even a slightest chance of revenge...

His eyes flashed as he came to a decision.

"...All right. All right, I'll help you. I've still got some contacts around who will tell me if there's been any unusual activity. And I remember their more permanent hideouts on this planet. If they are here, like you said, I can find them."

The Sith Lord seemed to relax at this response, stepping away. Matarl immediately felt his anxiety wane at the other person's withdrawal.

"It gladdens my heart to hear you say that. I couldn't eat another bite."

It was meant as a joke but the words only made the Twi'lek more uncomfortable. Victus shrugged and pointed a bony finger at him. Matarl's manacles split open. The Rutian stood up as he rubbed his wrists gingerly.

"Get going." commanded Victus.

"How will I get in touch with you in case…well anything?"

"Don't worry, we are always in touch." replied Victus cryptically.

For some reason at that moment, the dull black patches of Matarl's skin started to itch. He decided not to press the point. "Fine... And what will you be doing in the meantime?"

A sharp hiss emanated from every corner of room as the aspirants started arguing amongst each other. They sounded…hungry. Victus hissed at his restless subordinates in their own guttural language. He probably told them to shut up because the group eventually subsided. The Sith Lord stared at them a moment longer before turning back to reply in an ominous voice.

"We have unfinished business with your...former employer."

Matarl saw how Victus did business. He remembered the piles of corpses heaped on the killing ground in the _Minx_. A day ago, it was one of the most popular establishments in the Blood District. Now it was a charnel house. With that in mind, Reeka would be a green smear on the wall by the time the Weeper was through with him. Not that Matarl cared. Still he saw the flaw in that plan.

"I think that would be hard to do, since you killed the only people who could get you to the auction."

"Oh, don't worry, I know where it is."

The Rutian's face scrunched up in confusion.

"You know...? But how?"

"I didn't eat Racquile's brain just for the taste". Victus replied. The Sith Lord spoke with such perfectly measured timbre that Matarl believed him. He shuddered. The image of the Weeper splitting Racquile's skull like a soft shelled crab would haunt him forever.

He looked at his new employer in fear, wondering how the wretch could possibly glean such information from a corpse.

Victus stared at him for a few seconds before erupting in harsh laughter. Even his followers laughed. The sound was bone chillingly horrible.

"A jest Matarl. A bloody jest. You really have no sense of humor. But to answer your question, I didn't kill everyone back at that lovely establishment. After all, I needed to know where I was going. And I _am _capable of diplomacy when it is needed."

His underlings chuckled at their leader's choice of words. Matarl just looked at him.

"It's true." Said Victus, sounding affronted at everyone's skepticism.

"I even managed to convince the survivor to provide me with their security codes and keys to their transport. Too bad he expired shortly after the fact telling me."

The Rutian followed Victus' gaze to the table where the freshly carved body lay. Blood still pumped from several of the exposed arteries where the heart used to be. He returned his accusing glare to the Sith Lord.

"What? I only took out his heart _after _he went into cardiac arrest. I am civilized after all. Don't look at me like that. It's not like he needed it afterwards. But to be fair, I might have 'facilitated' his said accident."

More grating laughter blew over him, none louder than the Weeper's. Matarl shook his head in mute reply until another thought occurred to him.

"Wait...if they are here, the rebels I mean...isn't there a good chance they know about this auction? That might be the reason they are back in the first place. Lucidae's dogs are always trying to thwart schemes like these."

"I think you've missed your true calling as a logistician," Remarked Victus dryly. "But no, the Reborn did not mention their meddling in this event."

The Sith Lord came close and held up something in his hand. It was his belt, along with his dual set of blasters. Matarl took the proffered equipment and strapped it onto his waist, feeling more comfortable already. Victus then brought his metal hand up towards his new asset, wiping a smudge of blood running from his nose. This time Matarl didn't cringe.

"Yes...very nice. It's setting in quicker than I anticipated." whispered the Weeper.

"What?"

Victus ignored the question. When he thought the Rutian looked presentable enough, he pointed at the apartment door to the far end of the dark room.

"Go. Time to make destiny a reality."

Matarl nodded, almost eagerly. Ignoring the sniffs and whispered taunts of the Weeper's followers, the Rutian walked out the door to begin his retribution.


	11. Chapter 11 Past Histories

_Do not disappoint me_

_-unattributed source_

* * *

_"Where are we?" Asked Revan. _

_He looked around the forlorn landscape. The path before them was rocky and unpaved, an arid terrain as uncompromising as the flensing rain soaking him to the marrow._

_The tall apparition he directed his question to chose to ignore it, as he often did. The Master simply gestured for the younger one to follow. They walked along the desolate rocky terrain, the only two souls that could be seen for hundreds of miles._

_Eventually though, he spoke._

_"You are here to complete your initiation into the ranks of the order," _

_Revan raised an eyebrow. "I just did a few days ago. Or did you not see me pass the trials?"_

_The other man snorted. "Trials? More like ritual. You recited some pretty lines and shed some blood with no consequence. Rituals are for heathen worshippers that crave mundane routines in their lives. I prefer a more...proven form of judgement."_

_Revan grimaced. No matter how well he excelled in his tasks, the Master always found him wanting. _

_Master...you had no right to judge me either._

_Out loud, he asked. "What does that mean?"_

_"You'll find out soon enough. Now be silent."_

_The younger man lapsed back into his brooding contemplation. It was an arduous task to engage the other person in conversation at the best of times and he had no more wish to painfully extract any more information. He could not recall any time when this distant figure had shown him even a modicum of warmth. And after all this time being abandoned...why was his Master interested in him now?_

_Eventually, the pair reached the mouth of a cave. The entrance was pitch black, with no hint of what might lurk beyond._

_"We are here." Came his former mentor's quiet voice. _

_He turned to his onetime pupil with wintery eyes. Revan always found it hard to look at those orbs. There was something...dark lurking beneath them that threatened to engulf all who stared too hard._

_Eyes like me...is that the only thing we share?_

_"This is your final trial. In there you will undergo an experience. It will assess you." _

_"Assess? You don't think I'm not a good enough fighter? Asked Revan sarcastically._

_"Some things cannot be trained. This is a trial of your inner self, a reflection to see who you are at the very core of your being. While it may seem you only have to make a simple choice, make no mistake, you will be tested."_

_The Master pointed a finger at the new Jedi._

_"Perform to my satisfaction, and you will be fully inducted into the ranks of the Jedi Knights. You don't want to now what happens if you fail." _

_The young man didn't feel like verbally sparring anymore. He shrugged and turned to enter the cave until the Master grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him back. Revan felt an immense pressure, a weight of responsibility impressed in that hand. _

_He glared up._

_"Know this. Cunning and guile will not serve you in this test. When the time comes, you must open yourself. No lies. Do not disappoint me,"_

_"We all know how much your contentment means to me," retorted the Jedi._

_The younger man shook free from his grasp and walked into the cave._

* * *

Revan opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim yellow light in the room. He was in a sparsely furnished chamber, the most distinguishing feature being the tiny metal cot he rested in. Thoroughly weary from the ordeals yesterday, he had been escorted to resting quarters after talking to T'shere and quickly drifted into slumber. It had been a long time since he had slept with such a vivid memory returning.

His head always ached terribly when he woke from them.

_I haven't thought about that in so long...maybe I didn't want to._

That trial had been an unnerving experience to say the least. But could the Jedi even trust that it had happened the way he remembered it? Revan had no idea when his fake memories ended and his real ones started.

_All_ _those other tests...all those times I felt like I was going to die. Was any of that real?_

Regardless, he had a bad feeling about the dream. Whenever he experienced a waking memory, it always portended something important for the future although Revan couldn't say what.

_Why am I dreaming about this now? There must be some clue, some significance..._

He was shaken from his reverie at the sound of footsteps approaching his metal door. The Jedi hastily rubbed the bleariness from his eyes and made himself more respectable as the barrier creeped opened. He narrowed his eyes fractionally, wondering how many guards would come to accost him this time around.

The Jedi was therefore somewhat amused not to see darkly clothed security personnel, but the tiny blue Twi'lek wander in. She darted her eyes inquisitively around the room before settling on the Jedi himself.

"Heehee" giggled the Rutian, in a surprising accurate mimicry of her sister. She wandered into the room, towards his cot.

At her approach, Revan bent down and picked the child up. She made no attempt to resist but gazed at him curiously with dark eyes. The Jedi wondering how she kept managing to elude the grownups.

_She has a gift for escaping._ He concluded benignly.

"Can I go on your mission?" Asked the little girl hopefully.

Before the Jedi could formulate a proper response, he heard another pair of footsteps approaching his door accompanied by Mysteel's sing song voice.

"Sister! Where did you run off to now? Honestly, I can't take my eyes off you for a moment! Ooooh, you little scamp. When I find you, I swear I'll put bells on your head!"

As the female burst into the room, Revan eyes widened in surprise. Not only was Mysteel wearing only the most basic undergarments, her skin had turned from a lustrous gold to a bloody red sheen. She had used contact lenses to change her eyes to a feline yellow and applied a generous amount of eyeliner around them as well. The disguise reminded him uncomfortably of another Twi'lek he had fought, although she looked nowhere as fierce.

_Well...she certainly looks the part. _

Mysteel smiled when she finally found the target of her pursuit. "There you are! Naughty girl. Why are you harassing our guest? When mother hears this, she'll spank you."

There was no malice in her voice though as the Twi'lek glided towards the pair. With a laugh, she took the child away from Revan's awkward hold.

"Thanks, partner." Mysteel said, giving him a playful wink. She seemed completely unaware or unconcerned with her lack of attire,

"Did you burn your clothes?" Asked Revan sardonically.

Mysteel giggled. "Oh this? Well if you must know, I sleep practically naked. And I needed to let the paint dry off."

She twisted around to inspect her backside, unconsciously exposing her ass.

"Dammit, I ruined the back." She whined. "It's all splotchy!"

Revan didn't reply, sitting back down on his tiny cot. Without asking for permission, Mysteel sat beside him, while bouncing the child idly in her arms.

"Sorry for barging in. I swear, I have no idea how she keeps getting away. I told this little bundle of joy to stay in her room, but she never listens."

Her little bundle of joy looked outraged.

"You told me to come here!"

Mysteel looked like she had just been accused of raping an Ewok.

"Well I never! Traitor!"

"Why are you really here?" asked Revan wearily. The Twi'lek was amusing in a childish sort of way, somehow innocent and deadly at the same time. But her attempts to be ingratiating were beginning to get on his nerves. Her counterpart turned redder, if that was possible.

_I really hate the colour red..._

She continued to juggle the child on her lap, trying to buy time for the right response.

"Oh...well I guess I wanted to learn more about you and the Jedi,"

Revan paused at those words.

"You have never trained at the Order." It was not a question.

Mysteel gave an embarrassed laugh.

"I guess fair's fair. You're right, I didn't. But I did get how should I say...'third hand training'. I can recite all the teachings and history by rote. And I even know the names of some of the recent Masters, but ask me to put a face on them...".

She shrugged sheepishly. Revan's interest was piqued. He wanted to pursue this line of questioning but Mysteel would probably be forced to evade them. Still, he didn't see any harm in answering any minor tidbits for her.

"Very well, what do you want to know?"

Mysteel clapped her hands in glee. "Heehee, this is going to be fun."

She gave an elaborate pause before asking.

"Well, since you're a Jedi, you were trained on Coruscant right? The heart of the core worlds?"

"I had training on different places. But I have been there too."

Mysteel's eyes became as large as saucers.

"Oooh, what's it like there? Tell me, please? Nobody I know ever wants to talk about it."

Revan raised his head to stare at the wall in front of him. His face took on a distant quality.

"Imagine a sprawling metropolis that covers not a continent, but an entire world. One unified, city that never sleeps. Whether it is day or night, bustling traffic dots the sky. Vast empire sized buildings rise proudly everywhere you look, each one unique in design and brimming with life. Not alive in the conventional sense but you can almost hear the inner heartbeat every time you set foot on the planet's surface. It is the product of the countless alien cultures being integrated throughout the millennia, somehow meshing seamlessly into one perfect landscape. In short, it is a technological marvel, the pinnacle of architectural ingenuity. And the greatest symbol of the Republic."

Thinking about that place made him sad again. It reminded him of his expulsion and what he had left there.

_Alek, Exon, Ailene...will I ever see my friends again?_

Mysteel seemed positively riveted, blowing out a wistful sigh.

"It's better than I dreamed it would be. I've always wanted to go there. See the Order..."

Her voice trailed off, looking at Revan curiously. It made him feel uncomfortable.

"But you mentioned training in different places? How did that happen? Did your Master hop around lot?"

"I had many self styled Masters, but only one that I genuinely respected."

"Really, just one? Must have been quite the piece of work. What was this person like?"

"He..."

Revan hesitated. He had not seen his first Master for so long. Recently the Jedi began to think he was one of the many lies, his identity somehow an elaborate concoction by the Masters as part of his 'training'. Perhaps forcing those gruelling experiences into his head was an unorthodox way to prime his mind for actual instruction amongst others.

He could still hear Raithe's bloodless voice so clearly.

_You're life is built on ashes and lies. You don't even know who you are. You are less than nothing._

The thought was disconcerting. Yet...the memories of that man felt so real, so tangible in a way many of his other dreams were not. Maybe he wanted him to be fake...it would make his dismissal from his tutelage easier.

_Why should I tell this absurdly ridiculous person? Some wounds should just remain closed._

Before he could object though, Mysteel plopped her sister on the pillow and shifted her body to look at him directly.

"Don't worry, take your time," she said soothingly. Revan sighed then, thinking to humor the Twi'lek for a bit before sending her away.

_Why not? It may even be a relief to finally talk about it. And I can only tell her what I remember...true or false._

"He was..." started the Jedi quietly

"...an awful person to be around if truth be told. Utterly merciless, and without humor. Sometimes I wish I could forget he ever existed."

Mysteel scrunched up her face in confusion.

"You hated him? Why you would choose him as a Master? Were you two assigned to each other?"

Revan shook his head.

"It doesn't work that way. He found me. Chronologically, he was my first Master, although I was not affiliated with the Order during my time with him so he wasn't recognized as such. That distinction fell to another, a woman who he arranged to have discover me. But despite our antagonistic relationship, I could not deny his inner charisma, his quiet strength. When I looked at him, it was like looking at the heart of a storm. Something about the man made you want to follow him to hell. To be worthy in his eyes."

"Sounds awesome. But since you at least respected him, he must have taught you a lot of neat tricks."

"He did, but not the kind you're thinking of. This man didn't hone any of my Force abilities. If anything, he discouraged my usage of them."

He could see Mysteel's perplexity grow even more. "Come again? Why would he do that?"

"I was a sickly child when he found me, and the Master said my body was unsuited to proper training until I improved it physically. A valid reason, but looking back, I think he had an ulterior motive. He didn't want me to succumb to the flaws other inductees experienced in their training."

"Flaws?"

Revan nodded.

'_The Masters' teachings are flawed'_ he would say. '_They try to build a house without laying down a foundation, adding bricks and mortar without strengthening the core. By the time they are finished, the outer shell may look pretty but the slightest blow of a wind and the house will collapse. It is why so many Jedi turn traitor_.'"

The Jedi smiled at the recollected words before continuing.

"So he trained my inner strength so to speak. Made me survive for days in inhospitable environments and threw me through all sorts of deathtraps. He called it 'making up for lost time'. I called it inhumane cruelty."

Revan closed his eyes, floating in images past. In his memories, real or perceived, the regime was gruelling to say the least.

"I remember the suicide training most of all. It is basically a marathon series of sit-ups and pushups, the mundane exercises most Jedi never even bothered with too often. The first and only rule was that I had to do everything physically. He initially made me do a hundred sets of each, later two hundred, then more as my body became attenuated to such punishment. I threw up the first few times, the sheer exertion causing my stomach to spasm in protest. I even dared to cheat once by willing myself off the floor. I must have lost more blood from the beating afterwards than in any of my battles."

_Good times._

His companion continued to listen while wrapping one of her tentacles around her finger.

"Wow, he sounds like a complete hard ass, the exact opposite of my Master. Didn't you ever get to do something fun?"

"Fun..." echoed Revan. "well, there was the time he literally threw me to the Rancors. The bastard must have drugged my water supply because I remembered rehydrating one moment, then waking up in a huge labyrinth crawling with those...things. I was stripped of all my belongings and soaked in some sort of marinade. Left to use all my wits and stealth to avoid being devoured for several days and nights before finally finding an escape route. Trust me when I say it was...harrowing."

Mysteel laughed at those words, her voice melodic in her mirth. "Oh, it couldn't have been that bad," remarked the Twi'lek between giggles. "I mean you're still in one piece,"

"That depends. Have you ever wiped Rancor dung over your entire body to mask your scent?"

For once, Mysteel looked speechless. She also edged back a little.

"Ewww. Okay...I don't know what to say about that. I mean, is that was how Jedi training usually works? I thought there would be more rhetorical lectures and cryptic messages that would take a lifetime to figure out. It sounds like he did it more for sick kicks."

Revan smiled at her reaction.

"I was also initially convinced the slave driver was just trying to kill me through sheer cruelty. If so, he should have just left me on the planet where we met. The air alone would have been the end of me. Imagine my amazement when I found my emancipated body changing."

"Awww, you finally hit puberty? Boys get it off so easily. For girls, it involves a LOT of blood...and sometimes a plunger."

Mysteel giggled at her own joke. Revan chuckled as well before continuing.

"No, not like that. I just became...stronger. My muscles developed. I could jump, leap and run faster than many top level athletes in their prime. And because I was improvising and staying constantly alert in a deadly habitat, my mind became sharp, ever alert. The 'training' had focused my willpower into a diamond hard point. With these new founts of inner strength, I found I could perform seemingly impossible tasks. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had _him _to thank for that..."

His voice trailed off again.

_I despised every moment with him...but now that he's gone, it feels like there's a hole in my life. And it gets larger every day._

Revan still remembered the last words of their first parting. He thought by then he would be worthy enough to receive real training as a full fledged initiate, but apparently the other man had judged otherwise. Revan had never discovered why he had thrown him away to the council. Except...

_I'm done with you, _he had said coldly. _Live, die or do nothing, it matters not to me. Let the Order do with you as they see fit._

It left a bitter taste in his mouth to be discarded. In some unfathomable way, he had failed him. Maybe that was why he tried so hard to learn everything he could from the others. To prove to his Master he was wrong to abandon him like a discarded piece of meat.

_You're wrong. None of those things happened..._

_"_Are you all right?" asked Mysteel poking him on the shoulder and interrupting his brooding.

"You weren't picturing me naked, were you? I've been told I have that effect."

Revan shook his head, dismissing the madman's voice.

"I'm fine. Anyways, he might have been a horrible person, but he gave me the most important weapon in any my arsenal."

"What's that?"

"Wisdom. I still remember the final piece he gave before I was sent off to the Order for real. They are words I will remember forever."

Revan was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again it was with a quaver to his voice.

"He said '_Remember this...whatever feat of strength you try to accomplish, it comes down to the same thing. Whether you are fighting an enemy with a blade in your hand or with your mind, they both draw from the same source of strength. Discipline. You can be a master of your crafts because you are a master of your mind. Never forget that. When all seems lost, always remember the source of your power comes from your determination, your willingness to overcome, not from your 'gifts'. Do not disappoint me._'"

Revan had taken that lesson to heart. It guided him in whatever task he set himself to do. It was the reason why he was who he was today. Or so he had thought.

"What happened to him. I mean after he finished training you?" Mysteel asked curiously.

"He was...he left," came Revan's evasive reply. His tone made it clear he didn't want to talk about it any more. Mysteel was nothing if not persistent though.

"Is that why you always look so sad?" Her voice sounded concerned,

The Jedi was startled by the question. Nobody had asked him how he felt since he had been separated from the Order and meant it. But then again, there was no one to talk to until now.

The best way to describe how he felt about his expulsion was a sense of ...incompleteness. The foundation of everything he built his young life on had been torn away from him, fate throwing him into a turmoil of events in which he had no control.

All this flitted through his mind, and Revan wondered how he could possibly explain the enormity of his...predicament without exposing himself as the fraud he now was. Mysteel was still looking at him expectantly for an answer though, forcing his hand.

_I should just lie._

But to the Twi'lek, he answered. "I...I've recently had a crisis of faith,"

"About what?"

"You wouldn't be interested,"

"Sure I would!" replied the Twi'lek warmly. "I've taken a load off plenty of guys before, and yes I know how dirty that sounds. But I'm a great listener aren't I? And my sister is too,"

The Jedi looked doubtfully at the infant who had been lulled into a dozing sleep...on his pillow.

Mysteel blushed. "Don't mind her, she's just tired...from sleeping all the time. Hee. So what's on your mind?"

Revan tried to find the right words. He began tentatively.

"A few weeks ago, I was on a mission that had...repercussions. Without going into specifics, the event shattered me. Changed my perspective on life."

His mind flitted back to those dark moments when he was in Raithe's grasp. The memory filled him with despair. The more he thought about it, the more he realized nothing had been in his control during that event.

_Choice is the ultimate delusion. Exon was wrong. I am no more in control of my fate than a leaf caught in the wind._

Mysteel listened attentively, silently coaxing the Jedi to continue.

"Suffice to say before this incident, I used to think that I had everything figured out. That I had a contingency for every scenario. With my training, I thought I could control events so I could choose my own fate. But I know now it was just the arrogance of a youth with more piss than sense. I was never in control. Just...going through the motions."

Melancholy washed over him as he ran a hand through his thick black hair. It had grown out since the last mission. Revan had prided himself on maintaining an image of self discipline, but now he found he couldn't care. Mysteel was clearly bewildered by his attitude.

"Okay...before I try and psycho-analyze you, what do you mean by going through the motions?"

"It's hard to explain." replied Revan tentatively, "To give an analogy...have you ever seen a trap where the more one resists, the more it closes in so it is harder for the prisoner to be released? Well that's how I feel. No matter what I do, it's leading to a path that I can't escape."

"You mean like fate?" asked Mysteel, scratching her head. "I know the Jedi take premonitions really seriously. They believe nothing happens by coincidence don't they? Did someone tell you your future?"

"In a sense. There was a trial I had before I became fully inducted. I thought the whole experience was just meaningless Jedi superstition meant to scare the younger initiates...until..."

Shaking his head, Revan turned back to the curious female.

"Let's just say I've come to understand that no-one is truly in control of their destiny because someone...something is always manipulating events in the background. My accomplishments mean nothing because they are not truly my own. Call it a higher power, destiny, whatever. We can argue our choices cause a theoretical infinite number of permutations, each with different effects on the galaxy. But in reality, all strands of fate weave into one conclusion. Whatever that may be."

Mysteel stared at him silently for a long time. Revan thought she was reeling at the heady philosophy he imparted, but to his surprise and annoyance, she started laughing. It was a good natured laugh, but Revan felt his annoyance grow.

"I'm glad my insights amuses you so," he replied darkly.

"Sorry, its just that...that's silly," said the Twi'lek between chuckles.

"What is?" he demanded.

"Your fate theory. The whole '_Ooh, there's nothing I can do to change the galaxy because its been predetermined, so I might as well not try_'. That's just ridiculous. I mean sure, we can't control everything, but that doesn't mean you can't make choices that affect your life or someone else's."

Revan was tired of arguing with her. "if you say so," he replied dismissively. His tone marked the end of the conversation, but Mysteel just smiled at him.

"You know, I think it's time for my one of my awesome stories."

"You...you want to tell me a story?" echoed Revan in disbelief.

"Sure!" replied Mysteel cheerfully. "I tell a lot of stories to kids. And I think I've got just the story to prove my point. In fact I told it last night."

He definitely wasn't in the mood for this.

"Why don't you just give me the abridged version?" tried Revan diplomatically.

"Oh Rev, you're always rushing through things," pouted the Twi'lek. "Good stories are like good sex. You need to set the groundwork, then the gradual tension buildup until finally you come to a climatic ending! Then everyone goes to bed happy!"

Revan just stared as Mysteel laughed, her voice like honey on silk. Before he could even formulate a meaningful response, the metal door swung open with an audible bang. The noise startled the child on the pillow awake and she rubbed her eyes grumpily to focus on the newcomer. Her face brightened considerably when she saw who it was though.

"Fun Bags!" she chirped happily.

Indeed it was the amply endowed commander herself, although now she looked coldly professional. Her grey jacket was zipped up to cover her breasts and her hair was tied into a tight ponytail. The Arkanian's face was pinched into a grimace as she beheld the scene before her. She looked at her sister with undisguised suspicion. Mysteel gave her an innocent smile.

"Yes, this is exactly what it looks like. And I brought my sister along to watch because that's just the way I roll."

"You. Her. Out." the tone in the commander's voice was whipcord taut. Mysteel realized she was in no mood for her flippant attitude. Sighing in resignation, she scooped up her charge and gave one more meaningful look at the Jedi.

"I'll tell you the story later. Call me!" she said playfully. With a wink, she pranced out of the room as her younger sister pulled at her tentacles.


	12. Chapter 12 The Plan

_Innovation comes from the strangest places_

_-Mysteel_

* * *

As the Twi'leks had left, T'shere closed the door with ringing finality. When she turned back, her expression was icy, the mien of deep disapproval forever etched onto her face. Revan wondered if it was just with him, or if she always went around looking as if someone had stuck a poker up her bunghole.

She walked up to where the Jedi was standing, her silvery eyes never leaving his. Even now, under the guise of allies, they were instinctively sizing each other up, respectful of each other's abilities, but too polar in attitude to be comfortable around the other. Where T'shere was a predator that reacted instinctively, Revan was cold and calculative. The Jedi knew they would never like each other. The best he could hope for from her was forced politeness.

"She was just asking me questions," said Revan quietly, hoping to start things cordially.

T'shere gave him a cruel smile. "You don't have to make excuses with me. I'm sure you're great at sex. But you should get an actual person to do it with once in a while,"

Revan didn't rise up to the bait. "Keep trying commander, eventually you'll come up with a clever retort,"

T'shere's eyes narrowed again in displeasure at his ridicule. The Jedi realized he wasn't really helping diffuse the tension.

_This isn't going as well as I hoped,_

He tried again in a more diplomatic tone. "If this...partnership has any chance of success, we're going to stop trading barbs like this. For the sake of this conversation, let's pretend we don't want the other person in a monster's gullet."

Tshere glowered at him for a few more seconds before nodding tightly,

"Truly a skill in itself. Very well. I'm here to brief you on the mission."

Revan nodded. She held out a data slate.

"These are the coordinates where the auction is taking place." T'shere said, pointing to a red glowing icon on the screen.

"It's one of Reeka's private 'estates'. A fully fortified military garrison on an island about three clicks from the city limits. Ironically this complex use to be one of the remaining shelter zones for civilians. It also served as a Republic base of operations. The same Republic that nuked this planet to hell two hundred years ago."

The commander gave a faint sneer of contempt at the remark before continuing.

"Regardless, the current radiation from the fallout in that area makes aerial transportation too risky. We'll be taking a 'Mole' to cross to the other side, through a huge retractable bridge that used to be called Liberty Road."

T'shere looked at Revan dispassionately as he analyzed the data slate she gave him. When he looked back up she continued, "We'll drop you and my sister just outside the garrison walls. The actual auction will be in one of their fortified bunkers. You'll get in, buy the weapon everybody has their buns tied in a knot for and get out. Understood?"

"I don't think that will be a problem."

The Arkanian narrowed her eyes then, suspicion tinging her every word. She folded her arms under her breasts.

"I'm taking a huge risk in sending my sister with you. And this operation requires a certain amount of trust. So are you going to tell me how you managed to scrap all those credits together?"

Revan shrugged. "I can't say,"

She wasn't happy with the non-answer.

"One wonders if you are capable of telling the truth at all," the commander said acidly.

"One wonders if you are capable of anything useful at all,"

T'shere stiffened, her hands unconsciously twitching at her sides as she resisted the urge to strangle the other man. Realizing he had just broken his own truce, he added a quick 'sorry' before the Arkanian could implode. Her eyes smoldered, clearly trying to keep her temper in check.

Eventually she exhaled and the moment passed.

"Don't test me again."

She spoke again.

"Now, based on what our informant said, there will be representatives from the _Severed Hands _and _Night Raiders _bidding as well. Mercenaries for the most part...Most of these shouldn't be a problem for either of you."

"Most?"

T'shere hesitated, seeming unsure whether to disclose anything.

"Remember the Sith Mysteel said we were hunting?"

"The wretches you thought I was one of?" asked Reevan sardonically.

The woman nodded.

"Someone from their faction may be there for the same thing as us, although this is unconfirmed."

T'shere gracefully omitting the part where the Jedi had screwed them over on that account.

"We are hoping to ID at least one of them for future intel."

_In other words, you're using us as bait._

He probably should have felt angrier, but Revan felt this was an acceptable risk in exchange for their... 'help'. He began to see why T'shere was so reluctant to send Mysteel along. She didn't want her sister caught in a potentially volatile situation with someone she didn't trust.

The commander eyed the Jedi thoughtfully before asking.

"These Sith are part of a fraternity known as the Cult of the Reborn. Have you heard of them?"

Revan shook his head. His counterpart didn't seem surprised.

"They're not native to the galactic core. We think they're from the Unknown Regions, but being unknown...we can't say where. As far as we know, this cult was founded by someone who calls himself Malleus. He is the definition of insanity, cruelty and perversion all mixed into one sack of polluted flesh. This...thing is the real reason the whole planet is such a crap hole in the first place, and no I won't call him a man because that suggests he still has a speck of decency left in his shrivelled heart."

Revan recalled his handler saying a Sith faction being responsible for the planet's current deplorable conditions. However that was centuries ago. Still, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that this...Malleus had survived that long.

"I can't stress this part enough," said Tshere grimly, bringing Revan out of his contemplations. "Sith Lords are evil bastards, but Malleus...he makes the usual rabble look like amateurs."

"Why do you say that?" He asked archly. "What can he have done that other Sith Lords haven't?"

"Well for starters, he's a cannibal." Replied Tshere grimly. "I don't think most Sith would eat you and me as a rule. They might threaten to suck the marrow from our bones, but Malleus will make good on that promise. He even has a nickname among us. _The Butcher._"

"I assume you've seen his handiwork first hand?"

"I can't say," smirked the Arkanian, mimicking Revan's vague response before continuing.

"The good news though is we have very little reason to believe Malleus will come in person. He never bothers to show himself unless there is will be a gorefest, which this shouldn't be."

She walked around the sparsely furnished room, lost in thought with pursed lips.

"On the other hand, his subordinates are almost as bad. We don't know how many underlings he has, but we've uncovered dozens of planets with their activity in the past. Sacrificial murders, disappearances. That sort of thing. They go about preying on the weak and forgotten, clawing at the edge of civilized space, slowly sapping the strength of the Republic like carrion birds. And make no mistake, they are a cancer. Once they take root on a planet, its almost impossible to remove them without causing collateral damage."

Tshere paused to let him absorb this piece of information.

"His...organization if it can be called that is roughly structured into a pyramid hierarchy. At the bottom are the common slaves. These are usually criminals that are captured and forced into his service. He only lets the most despicable and cruel hearted of them live so when it comes to fighting in the future, don't feel bad for popping their heads off like a zit."

She stopped pacing and gave Revan a level stare.

"Then you have what we call Abominations. These are basically men and women, who joined the cult but somewhere along their...induction, they became insane. We're not really clear on the particulars but their trials apparently involve self-deflagalation and eating the flesh of another person...maybe their own."

T'shere thought that would at least get a blink from the Jedi but he didn't seemed fazed by the admission. She frowned, momentarily wrong footed but pressed on.

"Anyways...the trials have pretty much driven them to the breaking point. They're little more than mindless monsters that need to be herded like hounds. On the flip side, our reconnaissance has shown their senses to be significantly more acute than the average humanoid. They are especially sensitive to the smell of exposed blood. It drives them wild, making it impossible to hide from them."

Revan nodded, but didn't look too concerned. "If blood unhinges them, it makes them predictable."

The Arkanian resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his dismissiveness before continuing.

"Aspirants are kind of like Abominations except they haven't been driven completely off the wall yet. They're the ones that guide their more unfortunate brethren like pack animals. Make no mistake, these ones are dangerous. They've got all the abilities you'd expect to find in a Sith but are even uglier. Trust me, just looking at these freak shows will make you want to puke."

T'shere's face became darker as she recollected her next piece of information.

"And finally...you have the Reborn. These are Malleus' right hands. Think of them as made men. They've completed their...transformation into something similar to what their despicable Master is."

"What would that be?"

Tshere shrugged her shoulders.

"Nobody knows for sure. They undergo some sort of process that transforms their bodies. We suspect Malleus infects all aspirants with some sort of drug or virus. That's the only reason we can think of why they're so hideous."

She pursed her lips.

"Aside from the physical appearance, they also change internally. I've seen these freaks shrug off blows that would kill a Rancor. They don't feel pain anymore. In fact they get off being in pain. Its like euphoria to them."

T'shere stopped pacing at that moment to look at him straight in the eye.

"You might have a lofty opinion of your abilities but trust me, these Sith are almost unkillable. The only thing that guarantees their death is separating their damn head from the shoulders. But if it comes to battle with them, you're pretty much screwed,"

Revan did not feel very impressed with that piece of news. "I'll keep that in mind,"

The commander frowned, clearly not appreciating how casually he was taking her warnings.

_What was Lucidae thinking, stringing me along with this…_

"Then listen to this next piece of instruction very carefully. You are _not_ to engage in hostilities during this event, Sith or not. This is purely a grab and go."

Revan raised an eyebrow.

"And if something goes wrong at the auction? You and I both know my presence there is secondary to your goal of attracting the attention of these Sith. Things could get ugly."

"It won't." stressed T'shere. "We'll be patched into their security networks and setting up real time surveillance to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. If anything even looks remotely suspicious, you'll be informed far in advance."

Revan looked at her doubtfully.

"These aren't the most civilized gatherings. Your enemies will undoubtedly take special issue with me buying the weapon from under their noses. I would have to fight them-."

T'shere grabbed Revan by the front of his robes before he could finish the sentence. Revan tensed but didn't draw his weapon. She glared at him with uncompromising silver eyes.

"_Listen _to me you, you arrogant prick. I'm going to say this in no uncertain terms_. No fights. _You might think you're abilities will protect you on this mission, but the Reborn are volatile and very unpredictable. Anonymity is our only weapon against them. If for whatever reason, you cannot acquire the package, we'll regroup and re-strategize. But the last thing we need is you causing collateral damage with Reeka or Malleus.

She finished her instructions with a deadly hiss.

"And if you do _anything_ to put my sister in jeopardy, I swear I will flay you alive."

Revan matched her hard stare. He knew her threats were empty but didn't really think it worth the effort to argue the point right now. A truism of war was that the best laid plans never survived first contact. He would adapt to the situation as it unfolded.

"You're the commander," he said quietly. "no fights."

"Swear it," insisted T'shere vehemently "Swear it on the false order you serve, that you will do nothing that will bring harm to Mysteel."

Revan didn't think that was a particularly viable oath, since she thought the Order was false and he was no longer part of it. She didn't need to know any of that though. As T'shere glared on, he replied in a solemn voice.

"By the holy order of the Jedi Knights, I do so swear. By my honor and by the ancient creed that binds all of my kind to the oath of protection, no harm will come to your sister if I can prevent it,"

Tshere seemed satisfied with that. "Good, take this."

She pressed a syringe into his hand.

"Inoculate yourself. We will be leaving for the transport in an hour. Someone will be by to get you."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heels and walked away, not bothering to close the door.

* * *

True to her word, Kynes came to collect him after an hour or so. She was wearing her trademark skin-tight infiltration suit and hefting her Executioner rifle on her back.

"Revan," she said by way of acknowledgment. She raised her hand to the exit. "If you would be so kind?"

The Jedi nodded and followed the woman silently.

"The rest of the team is heading to the transport site, we'll meet them there." Remarked the woman as they walked. They continued to the lowest floor, where the subway platform resided. Kynes leapt down onto the subway tracks, and the Jedi followed. From there, they travelled east down the dark tunnel, the only source of illumination coming from a glow tube stuck to Kynes left breast.

They walked for several minutes until the sniper stopped at a narrow door jutting from the side of the tunnel. She quickly punched in a combination at the side and the door hissed open.

The new passage was even narrower, both having to enter and walk single file. At many points, there were junctures leading off to different sides. Kynes would pick one seemingly at random but Revan got the distinct sense they were traveling generally North now.

"The layout here is pretty haphazard for a subway system," the Jedi remarked at one point.

"these tunnels weren't part of the original network," explained Kynes quietly. Neither of the two made a single wisp of noise with their feet. If they didn't talk, it would have been like two ghosts were stalking the labyrinth.

"After the war that decimated this planet, the inhabitants had to go to ground to escape the fallout. They built these tunnels partly for shelter but also so it would be easier to reach other points of resistance. The effort was there, but the coordination...". Kynes left the thought trailing.

"And when the radiation levels above became tolerable again, most of the inhabitants went surface side," surmised the Jedi.

"More or less," agreed the sniper. "Although there are still quite a few living down here. Those too mutated or crazy to make it topside. Not the friendliest type, but they'll leave you alone as long as you don't cross their territory. Which is why we're taking the long route."

"Better for your group then. Such an elaborate maze means one can get from place to place without detection. Assuming you know the layout,"

"It isn't too hard after the first month or so," replied Kynes dismissively. They traveled the rest of the way in silence.

After about ten minutes, they reached a part of the tunnel with a metal ladder hanging to the side. Both of them climbed up and Kynes opened the murder hole above their heads. Revan emerged into an alleyway not dissimilar to the one he had been ambushed in. Parked in the narrow space was the dark metal transport T'shere had called a 'Mole'. It was roughy rectangular in shape with a broad hatch at the back that could complement a dozen passengers. The Jedi recognized the make as a type the Republic army fielded for bringing their soldiers into combat zones, favoured for its sturdy hull. It looked battered and worn, with red paint peeling off liberally from all sides. But the engine purred smoothly and there was no corrosion so it seemed well maintained.

Revan saw a couple of scouts he recognized from the base, then Tshere, and finally Mysteel all in red. She waved at the newcomers.

"Fancy meeting you two here," she said cheerfully. The Twi'lek was dressed in a gunmetal grey flack jacket and tight black trousers, not dissimilar to her previous clothing, although her low cut vest looked suspiciously like T'shere's. Mysteel also sported two blasters on either side of her hips, the style many mercenaries Revan had seen favor on this planet.

"Fancy that," agreed Kynes with a smirk as she climbed the rails to the driver's seat.

One by one, the rest of the team entered the vehicle. When they were all secure, the Mole took off for the city limits with an audible roar.

* * *

The trip was uneventful save for the occasional jolt in their seats. At one point, they reached the mile long bridge to the island. Looking out the window, Revan noticed the crossing was littered with debris. Old vehicles were strewn randomly across the length of the passage like a haphazard maze. It seemed they were used as makeshift shelters at some point because he saw piles ration cans and shattered glass on the floor along with old fire pits and tires that served for chairs. Looking more closely, he realized he could also see bones and skulls lying amongst the ruins. They had been there for some time, judging by the decay.

_People camped on this bridge. _Realized the Jedi. _There were so many that wanted to reach the safe zone they literally died here, waiting for rescue from the carnage that came from the war._

While he brooded, the commander was going over their mission parameters with her scouts.

"...We'll drop the two off at the western gates. We can't go beyond the wall so Kynes will set up a surveillance post southeast of the garrison walls. The rest of you will go..."

Revan was only partly listening as he did a final inventory check of his own gear. His lightsaber was securely fastened within reaching distance. As was his utility belt which included variety of new equipment, courtesy of his mysterious benefactors. This included an enhanced imaging apparatus, capable of showing the layout around him within a fifty meter radius as well as life-signs in the vicinity. He also had a new arrays of stimulants and anti toxins, to help him in case of severe injury. Among the most useful of his new inventory were the miniature thermal detonators, which could be activated remotely at his command.

Satisfied everything was in order, he looked at his partner to see how she was doing. Mysteel must have found the briefing boring, because the Twi'lek was too busy adjusting her left gauntlet to pay attention. She was muttering under her breath about something being stuck.

Suddenly a thin yellow energy blade hissed out from under her wrist, almost impaling her in the eye. She gave a surprised yelp, startling the other passengers.

T'shere gave her an annoyed look. "if your quite done?"

Mysteel looked embarrassed, "sorry Mom,"

As her sister continued to drone on, Mysteel threw a wink at the Jedi.

"Like my toy?" she whispered "I think it goes well with my femme fatale theme."

Revan studied her left wrist with interest.

"Remarkable. You modified the gauntlet to incorporate a power cell matrix. And you shaped the lightsaber foci lens to refract to only a fraction of its normal distance. In the shape of a stiletto even."

"Yep!" Mysteel replied proudly. "Do you like it? My clever little sister helped me scrounge up some of the components. But I got the idea from one of our missions,"

Before Revan could dissuade her, the Twi'lek happily elaborated.

"So there was this one time, where we were raiding this pirate ship. We were trying to free the slaves they were planning to sell off to the slave markets. Well things were going pretty much our way, and I was opening the prison doors when this midget comes out of nowhere, gets the jump on me and grabs my ass!"

"...you were molested by a midget?" asked Revan incredulously.

"Hmmm, maybe not a real midget. But he was tiny, with yellow lightbulbs eyes. I think they're native to Tatooine." explained Mysteel in her giggling voice.

"Well I thought it was one of the freed prisoners getting really friendly with me. I mean I was saving them, so I thought, 'why not?' and let him cop a feel on my butt cheeks. Then I felt a prick below the waist, and I thought, 'whoa, now that's too friendly,'. Well, you can imagine I didn't want to give it up to a three foot alien in a firefight, so I grabbed him and dashed him against the wall. When he was knocked out, I realized it wasn't his happy parts impaling me, it was a tiny dagger attached to his wrist!"

The Twi'lek gave an indignant huff.

"Needless to say I was pissed...and kind of relieved at the same time. I mean can you imagine losing your virginity that way?"

Revan's jaw opened and closed before settling on. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all! Anyways that's where I got the hidden weapon idea. Great for backstabbing, would've worked too if the bugger wasn't so damn small and had terrible aim. That's why I made this superior model."

She patted her weapon proudly.

"Oh and technically, I became a woman. Well almost, he wasn't strong enough to actually penetrate. Still, I'll always remember that one as the 'Cherry Popping,' mission. Awesome huh?"

At this point everyone was staring at her. Tshere was giving her sister her best withering glare.

"Any more inane stories you like to share with us?" she snapped.

"Oooooh totally, so there was this-"

"We're here," came Kyne's voice from the driver's seat.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Mysteel gave the group a pouty look.

"Nobody appreciates me," She sighed.


	13. Chapter 13 The Auction  Part 1

_Exitus acta probat _

_(the end justifies the means)_

_-unattributed source_

* * *

The 'Mole' came to a rumbling halt at the front of the garrison's metal gates. A scout came out, looked around and gave the all clear signal to his commander. In turn, T'shere gave an appraising look at her two spies.

"Time to go,"

Revan nodded solemnly, Mysteel eagerly so before disembarking. As the Jedi stepped down the transport, he was immediately aware of one thing.

_The air._

It was thick with contagion, smelling oily and rancid at the same time. Mysteel blinked rapidly as she stepped out, water streaming down her cheeks.

"Woof. And I thought the city was bad,"

Revan couldn't disagree with that assessment. Every inhale of breath was painful and lengthy exposure within this atmosphere would leave irreparable damage to their bodies. But it was unlikely that anyone in their right mind would ever venture out into this wasteland, making this remote outpost a prime spot for activities best left unnoticed.

Also, the Jedi couldn't make out anything beyond two meters, nothing but his feet, and the fifty foot wall barring their entrance. Raising his head, he could make out searchlights on the top of the barricades, like ominous red eyes. The Jedi was reminded of a proverb he had overheard.

_How many eyes does a Hutt have? As many as he can afford. _

T'shere hadn't lied when she said the base would be nigh impenetrable. Revan had no doubt every observation tower within every fifty meters was brimming with ordinance, snipers and heavy weapons.

"This is as far as they will let me take you," announced the Arkanian from the mouth of the vehicle. She pointed to a narrow metal gate flanked by two guards.

"Go through the gatehouse and follow the road. The auction will take place at the first bunker. You can't miss it."

"Understood,"

T'shere gave Revan a humorless grin.

"My sister knows her part well enough. But if you want you're disguise to work, you need to be yourself. You know, cold, haughty and uncaring."

"No need to put me on a pedestal commander," Revan deadpanned without missing a beat.

"Besides, I'd hate to be mistaken for you,"

She frowned before tapping her earpiece.

"We'll be in touch. Remember, no fights." warned the commander.

Almost as an afterthought she added.

"Good luck"

Revan waited as Mysteel gave her sister a quick peck on the cheek. T'shere whispered something into her ear and stroked the Twi'lek's cheek, the only modicum of genuine warmth the Jedi had seen her show to anyone since they met. Not for the first time, his eyes went to her the callused hands, T'shere openly sported. Compared to her immaculate appearance, it stuck out as a sore thumb. For someone who put so much stock into her own appearance, her scarred hands were an anomaly. But an anomaly to be resolved for another day.

When the two sisters said their farewells, the door closed and the vehicle rumbled away. When they left the drop off zone, Mysteel turned to the Jedi with a smile.

"Ready partner?"

Revan nodded. "This way,"

The two remaining souls went through the gate and began trudging along the gravelly road, using the gravelly outcrop as their guide.

"I hope my paint doesn't come off when we're inside. That would be embarrassing," remarked the Twi'lek as they walked.

_If that happens, it will be the least of our worries. _Revan thought. Out loud he said.

"If anyone notices, yell you're contagious. I'll use the distraction to get away,"

Mysteel giggled.

Eventually, the fog cleared as they approached a large octagonal structure, approximately three meters high.

_The bunker. It's smaller than I imagined._

He could make out six burly figures guarding either side of the entrance to the fortified structure. All of them were wearing environmental suits, their faces obscured by bulbous lensed breath masks, making it impossible to differentiate them. One of them stepped forward to challenge the pair.

"Halt," the figure growled in a thick baritone accent. "What's your business?"

Revan turned and gave his 'bodyguard' a sideways look. On cue, Mysteel walked up and took out their entrance papers from between her breasts (for theatricality she insisted) and presented it to their questioner. The Twi'lek had adopted a detached, almost haughty look. And when she spoke, her tone was whipcord sharp, a far cry from her warm melodic voice.

"What do you think?"

The burly figure took the papers with a thick leather glove. He produced a scanning apparatus from his belt and waved it under the bar code on the paper. After a few moments the guard nodded, apparently satisfied.

"These are legit," rumbled the masked figure eventually. "You're good to go,"

_That was easy_, thought Revan, feeling slightly underwhelmed after the gauntlet of obstacles just to reach this point. Apparently fate was vindictive enough to intervene because another figure stepped up to challenge them.

"Not so fast," Grunted the other man in an equally deep tenor voice. He eyed them emotionlessly behind his opaque mask. "We've been having trouble with our agents disappearing or turning up dead. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Revan didn't reply, choosing simply to stare at his challenger.

"What's your name stranger?" persisted the second man.

"Are you blind fool?" snapped Mysteel. She gave their interrogators an unpleasant glare.

"Our credentials speak for themselves."

The first guard looked back down at the documents.

"Says here his name is Revenant,"

"Lord Revenant," cut in Mysteel sharply. You will address my master with the respect he is entitled to as a Sith Lord.

"Sith?" One of them muttered uneasily. "I thought we cut our losses with those freaks…"

Revan's ears perked up before another member piped up.

"Wait, Revenant? Wasn't that a different guy's job?"

"Yeah...yeah! That was Bandor's. He never re-surfaced. Boss figured he kicked the bucket..."

Animosity tinged the second guard's words. He help up a hand and his lackeys began to encircle them, weapons at the reader. He turned back to Revan, raising the maw of his own gun straight at the Jedi's forehead.

"You'd better start talking ...'Lord'. Our boss doesn't like it when his assets start disappearing." The guard growled threateningly.

"You Sith are such a bloodthirsty lot. Not to mention being bastard sons of a whoremonger."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, several things happened at once.

Mysteel pounced up and kicked the accuser down. She landed nimbly on his chest, with her hidden energy blade hissing from the left gauntlet on her wrist to hang inches from his exposed throat. Her other hand had produced a blaster pointed straight at the man's groin area.

The original guard holding the papers had reached for his own weapon in response, but Revan had used the distraction to sweep up behind him and put him into a chokehold. In the blink of an eye, his lightsaber was pressed on his prisoner's throat, eliciting a muffled cry.

All this happened in less than a second, their movements a red and grey blur.

"Don't even think about it," Mysteel hissed threateningly at the remaining guards who had raised their weapons.

"Otherwise, you'll find out just how 'bloodthirsty' my Master really is."

The other guards looked at each other uneasily, unsure how to break the standoff. They lowered their guns fractionally.

_She's good. _thought the Jedi.

Mysteel looked up and gave Revan a hungry look.

"Master, he tried to hurt me." she whined in a suitably playful but menacing voice.

"I want to see the color of this pathetic worm's blood."

Her captive stuttered in a much more submissive voice.

"L-Look, we don't want any trouble. We're just trying to do our jobs."

Revan decided to play along with Mysteel's charade.

"And why should I let any of you live?" He asked in an ominous voice.

The guard seemed stymied at the question.

"We're...we're good soldiers." he ventured.

"You'd make better furniture ornaments."

"Oh yes!" panted Mysteel. She arched her body against the leathery white environmental suit in anticipation. "Please, let me take him Master!" pleaded the Twi'lek, like a whore begging for release.

Revan looked down at his own victim.

"My decision depends entirely on what you do in the next five seconds."

The guard understood. Breathlessly, he grunted a command. The rest of the men lowered their weapons. One of them quickly turned back to the comm terminal near the doors. He hastily punched in a sequence and the final metal barrier slowly groaned open.

The Jedi withdrew his weapon from his captive who gave an exhale of relief.

"W-we'll let them know you're coming sir. Just follow the stairs." stuttered Revan's former prisoner as he handed back the papers. The other men stepped back to let them through.

Mysteel looked suitably disappointed she hadn't been allowed to eviscerate someone. As consolation, she grabbed her victim's helmet and hissed.

"Don't ever let me see you again,"

The guard nodded vigorously.

"Now before we go...I believe you have something to say to my Master?"

She prodded him roughly with her gun. The other man muttered something under his breath.

"Louder weakling! So he can hear you beg!"

"I'm sorry Lord! I...I crave your forgiveness..."

"Better,"

Satisfied, the Twi'lek stood up and gave her former victim a sneer and one more kick for good measure. She also flipped a lewd sign at the remaining guards before sauntering through the doors.

Revan followed in behind without another word.

When they had cleared the entrance and were walking down the stairs, Mysteel gave the Jedi a wink and giggle, reverting to her normal carefree voice.

"That was awesome right? I totally came off as a bitch in heat."

Revan favored her with a smile.

* * *

The pair descended several flights of stairs to step down into a large rectangular hall. What immediately caught the Jedi's eye was the amount of security. A dozen of masked guards surrounded the walls, each hefting nasty looking blasters.

At the back of the room was a large podium with what looked like a terminal in the middle. Behind that was a large black curtain, presumably where the auction items would appear.

One of the masked guards near the entrance stepped forward and pointed them to the row of chairs facing the podium.

"We'll be starting soon so pick your seats. Doesn't matter where."

Revan nodded, wondering why security seemed so lax. He understood when his gaze unconsciously went up to the ceiling. Blaster turrets were mounted on every corner, more than enough to perforate the room in incandescent death. They swiveled back and forth ominously at the auctioneers, no doubt designed to deter any demands for refunds.

After a moment, he decided to sit towards the rightmost end. From that vantage point, he would have clear view of the entire room, including the other participants.

"Isn't this fun?" Whispered Mysteel as they sat down. "I love playing dress up."

Before he could reply, the comm unit in his ear started to buzz.

++...can...ou...ear me...++

The Jedi adjusted his comm to an alternate carrier frequency in order to get better reception. After some experimenting, the voice became clear.

++This is the commander. Come in, both of you.++

"Confirmed," Revan and Mysteel echoed almost in unison.

++Good, we're connected. Arctet is setting up the surveillance software.++

Revan found himself mildly surprised. He didn't notice the youth in the transport. But then again, half of the scouts had been completely obscured by their visors.

++What's your status?++

"Waiting for the fun to start," replied Mysteel quietly.

++What about you Trickster? Has your protégé connected into the garrison's subnet yet?++

There was a slight pause as the sniper detached voice joined the conversation.

++Affirmative. He's has hacked into their local network. Accessing their floor plan, logs and real-time footage.++

There was a slight pause before she added.

++Good job by the way. Couldn't have done it better myself.++

It was probably a lie, but the boy was in desperate need of some confidence, something the sniper was trying to impart to her student.

++Thanks, but it wasn't that hard.++ replied Arctet in a mildly embarrassed voice.

++They only use 1024 bit encryption and not even with a rotating password algorithm,++

++All right. Keep monitoring their comm traffic. Let me know if anything strange is going on. ++ said T'shere

++Yes commander,++

++ You two, what do you see? Any sign of our targets?++

Revan looked around him. The pair were two of about twenty attendants. From their garish looking attire, he surmised the others were mostly mercenaries, despots and self proclaimed freedom fighters from all corners of the galaxy. Most were humans but there was also a gaggle of other aliens as well. All of them looked like particular nasty members of their species, hard bitten and tough. But none of the group looked like what T'shere's had described to him.

"Nope, nothing unusual." whispered Mysteel into her own channel before adding.

"Well, there's a really big pirate Wookie. Wow I can't believe I just put those words in the same sentence. Times _are _tough."

++Focus sis++ murmured T'shere.

"Oh right. Hmmm, no just your usual scumbags. Oooh they've got the .32 hellfire pattern blasters. Do you think they're overcompensating for something? I mean look at them, stroking those three foot weapons like massive hard-ons, just waiting for the right moment to discharge..."

++Tails, you're not taking this seriously enough.++ admonished Kynes.

"Are you sure there is nobody suspicious?"

"As sure as I am of the fact that you get a funny feeling in your pants whenever my sister strips for y-"

++Tails!++ snapped both of the females.

Mysteel shrugged her shoulders.

"Suit yourself. But don't blame us if this is a wild Rancor chase. Maybe they weren't as interested as we thought."

++More likely they are choosing the right moment to attack++ commented Kynes ominously,

++Strike when the others are most unwary.++

++That's why you're here++ stated T'shere flatly.

++to keep an eye for any suspicious activity so we can extract them quickly if anything goes wrong.++

Revan spoke up. "Mysteel may be right. From what we inferred from the guards, their contact with the Sith did not end amicably."

There was a moment's pause.

++Trickster, search their records. I want to know what happened. All right, enough idle chatter. From now on, don't break comm silence unless-++

Their conversation was interrupted when a tall emancipated figure swooped out from behind the huge curtain to walk in front of the gathered throng. It was a male Twi'lek, his skin a sickly grey pallor with bloodshot eyes. He greeted his clients with a leery smile, showing a long row of sharp teeth, filed down to points.

"Why didn't I think of that," muttered Mysteel in envy. "I've got to steal some dentures and sharpen them up."

++Shhh!++ Said Tshere over the comm channel.

The newcomer gestured for everyone's attention, and the room was gradually brought into silence.

"Gentlemen," he said in a silky voice. "Good afternoon. My name is Seratheem. On behalf of Reeka the Hutt, I bid you welcome. His eminence regrets that he will not be attending in person today, as he has private matters to attend to."

There was a momentarily murmur of confusion at this piece of news. Why would Reeka spend all the effort setting up the auction if he wasn't even going to show up?

"Nevertheless the event will go on as he planned. Today's items are very exclusive, and of the very highest quality. I'm sure you have all heard of the special 'secret' item as well, which will be presented at the end. I assure everyone, it will not disappoint."

Everyone looked at him attentively as he pointed to a mobile terminal near his position.

"The rules of today's event are simple. We will be presenting you with each item one by one on this podium. I will give a starting bid and everyone will have the chance to put forth their offers. When the final amount is uncontested, the winner will be asked to come up to this terminal and transfer the agreed funds into our business account. Once the money has been confirmed to be received, you will be free to take said item."

Seratheem paused and gave them a humorless grin.

"I am sure everyone understands that all trades are final."

There was a general chorus of chuckles.

"Also, I must remind everyone that this is a civilized gathering. Any differences you might have with each other must be forgotten for the duration of this event. Violence of any sort will be dealt…harshly."

The audience unconsciously flickered their attention to the ceiling mounted turret blasters that strafed the entire room, which rotated menacingly on their axes. Most of them had no doubt that the heavy weapons could fry them into charred meat before any meaningful resistance could be mounted.

Seeing he had made his point, Seratheem snapped his fingers. Two of the burly masked guards stepped forward from the curtain carrying a large crate of weapons.

"So, without further ado, let's begin. Our first item is..."

* * *

The auction progressed at a fairly normal pace for the first hour. The more conventional items such as small arms and ammunition had been dolled out to various interested parties.

Revan paid these items very little mind, choosing to listen to Arctet's minute by minute reports. As far as the scout could tell, security was airtight, with all the guards making their rounds normally and no disruptions reported.

++I've searched their manifest.++ he said at one point.

++There are around fifty guards here excluding Reeka's guests. Twenty in the garrison proper. Another thirty or so are monitoring the outer perimeter.++

++Are there any references to the cult in their database?++ inquired T'shere curiously.

There was a moment's silence.

++My search algorithm has found an official report that mentions them.++ Arctet replied eventually before continuing.

++It's dated about six hours ago. According to this entry, Reeka sent his captain, someone called Racquile, and about twenty guards to negotiate with one of the Cult's representatives. Things apparently got…out of hand and the 'diplomat' attacked them. There was a brief scuffle and about a dozen guards were killed including this Racquile.++

The boy paused as she read on.

++It basically ends saying the negotiations were terminated but doesn't mention what happened to the diplomat.++

"Well I guess we can breath a little easier," whispered Mysteel happily. She had spent most of the auction twirling her tentacles and giving sexually suggestive looks at the other mercenaries.

++Perhaps,++ replied Kynes unconvinced. ++The Cult has a history of being unpredictable. It would be a mistake to underestimate them.++

Revan's attention was brought back to the present when Seratheem raised his hands for quiet.

"Now...for something a little different. I'm sure this will appeal to the male portion of the audience tonight."

The audience gave him curious stares. The speaker chuckled for a brief moment and then clapped his hands.

A few seconds later, the curtain behind him opened and a dozen scantily clad slaves - all females - were led out in chains by a pair of guards. There were two humans, three Twi'leks, a pair of Arkanians and a Cathar. In other words, some of the most sexually desirable races in the galaxy.

The majority of the girls cowered amongst each other, too afraid to talk, but the Cathar glared defiantly at her captors even as she strained within her chains.

_Flesh slaves_ thought Revan in disgust. He expected something like this but it still rankled him to see any sentient beings treated like meat. Looking at them now, he realized the females were no more than girls, some even younger than him or Mysteel.

"These women were exported offworld by many of our generous...benefactors," said the Twi'lek proudly. "Aalderan, Yavin, Tatooine...I've been told some are even of notable birth."

Many of the auctioneers gave approving sounds at that piece of news. No doubt they were imagining all the perverse sort of tortures or degrading acts they could make them do. A human pirate shouted lecherous suggestions at the Twi'leks, making them shudder onstage.

"Oh, and I should mention..." said Seratheem with a leer. "All the girls are known to be...unsullied. We can guarantee that."

The roars of approval magnified several times louder.

_Despots. _Thought Revan. He thought his erstwhile companions would have something to say to this, but they were all strangely silent.

"Now... do I have a starting bid?"

"Ten thousand for the lot!" someone snarled. "I've got an itch only the lot of them can satisfy!" a general chorus of laughter pealed through the room.

"Fifty thousand," Came another roar.

"Why waste them on one person? I've got a whole garrison myself that needs to do some whoring!"

The crowd muttered amongst each other at the latest exorbitant price. No doubt this would be the final bid.

"One million!" came a high pitched voice.

There was a stunned silence.

Everyone looked around to see who was insane enough to pay such a ridiculous figure for pleasure girls. Their eyes settled on the red Twi'lek next to Revan.

The Jedi stared at her in disbelief as well.

"What the hell are you doing?" He whispered.

In response, the Twi'lek grabbed his arm and leaned forward eagerly.

"Won't you buy these playthings for me Master?" she said in a sultry but clear voice so everyone could hear. Mysteel gave him a meaningful look.

"Think of all the ...'things' we could to them." She added before licking her lips in anticipation.

"Just imagine…we could take turns sating our desires with each of the girls. Or better yet, let's take one at the same time! One of us takes the front, and the other takes the rear. We can make our way tow-"

Revan caught on to Mysteel's true motive beneath her sexually filthy tirade. If they bought the slaves, they could free them at any time they saw fit after the auction. It was a perverse sort of justice but justice none the less.

Still...one million. Mysteel could have bid a tenth of that amount and they'd still have won.

_She keeps this up, I won't get what I came here for..._ thought Revan in irritation.

Apparently Kynes shared his unease.

++We don't have time for this. We should be focusing our efforts on the m-.++

T'shere's firm voice interrupted her. "No, my sister is right. We should be helping these poor girls."

She turned her attention to Revan, her voice challenging.

++What about you 'Jedi'? Does the Order do more than pay lip service when it comes to protecting the innocent? Or is saving helpless little whores beneath you? I'd wager this will be as noble a cause as anything you'll ever do in your wretched life.++

The speaker at the podium gave him a curious look.

"Is that a real bid my Lord...Revenant was it?" he asked incredulously. "Does your aide speak for you as well?"

Revan paused for a long moment before nodding at the speaker.

"She does," he replied through gritted teeth, standing up to make the exchange. Everyone muttered in jealousy as Revan walked up, wondering just how influential a Sith Lord must be to be able to throw such credits around for simple prostitutes.

"Probably wipes his ass with the stuff," he heard one of the guards mutter to another.

++I knew you'd see it my way++ T'shere said glibly through the channel. Reevan didn't deign to reply.

"Excellent!" Breathed Seratheem, as the Jedi approached him. "Now if you'll just make the transaction at this console..."

After the deed was done, the Twi'lek shook his hand warmly, looking indecently pleased. Revan felt dirty at the contact.

"Th-thank you for your patronage Lord." the alien stuttered, hardly believing his good fortune at securing such a profit. The slaves hadn't even been worth five thousand.

"The guards will escort them back to you. I can assure you, you won't be disappointed with your purchase."

Revan heard the approval in Seratheem's voice which only made him feel more soiled. He could only nod stiffly before turning back.

_Maybe it is better I'm no longer part of the Order. Force knows how much embarrassment this would bring. A Jedi buying prostitutes..._

He probably should have felt more embarrassed, but in a strange way Revan was glad he did this. If these slaves were liberated, what did it matter if it was done in such a sleezy manner? Didn't the ends justify the means?

The Jedi felt a little better at that thought as he trudged down the podium while the guards rounded up the slaves. As he returned to his corner, Mysteel placed her arms around his neck and leaned in uncomfortably close.

All eyes stared at them in jealousy.

"Damn Sith Lords," one of the mercenaries muttered. "How many women do you think he keeps around?"

"Probably breeds them in a farm," muttered another.

"What are you doing?" Revan demanded in low tones even as Mysteel batted her eyes enticingly at him.

"Isn't it obvious? This is me in character being thankful for buying me such a wonderful gift," the Twi'lek whispered into his ear.

++What's going on? What are you saying to him?++ demanded their commander.

She ignored her sister and leaned in for a kiss but Revan pulled back.

_I'm done with that_ he thought. At Mysteel's wounded expression he whispered.

"This is me in character being angry at you for wasting nine hundred thousand credits." He shrugged her off at the sound of approaching footsteps and turned back to look at the females being hauled towards him by the guards.

On closer inspection, the girls were wispy, malnourished things. Most of them refused to meet his eyes as they were paraded one by one, but some looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and loathing. One of the human girls began to cry as she came near, needing to be consoled by her comrades. The Cathar was the most obstinate of all. She spat at Revan as she was dragged close.

"You'll lose anything you try to put into me," she snarled in her own language, her feline eyes narrowing into slits.

_No good deed goes unpunished, _the Jedi thought dryly, wiping the spittle from his face. Beyond that Revan didn't reply. Mysteel stepped up next to the slave and gave her an appraising look.

"Oh, I like this one, I think I'll rape you first," She pronounced in a suitably menacing voice before jerking her thumb at the guards.

"Keep them on ice for us,"

They followed her orders obediently, dragging the cursing Cathar as well as the rest of the mob away to a corner to be chained.

When the commotion was done with, the Twi'lek announced for the auction to resume.

* * *

_Author's note: my account is totally on the fritz. Can't see any traffic or history whatsoever. Hopefully that doesn't mean new chapters can't be seen._


	14. Chapter 14 The Auction Part 2

_No battle plan ever survives first contact_

_-unattributed source_

* * *

More mundane merchandise were doled out as the auction progressed into the afternoon. Many of the attendees were becoming impatient. Their host had a demonstrated an increasingly annoying propensity for purple prose when announcing each bid. Seratheem was obviously stalling to increase the anticipation but it was reaching ridiculous theatricality.

Even Revan was getting restless, wishing the Twi'lek would just shut up and get to the main attraction so he could complete his objective.

Still, he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the weapon after the fact. Destroy it? Secure it for the Order? The Watcher had been suitably vague as to his mission parameters.

Arctet continued to give periodic reports of anything worth noting.

++Maybe I'm being paranoid, but according to these lifesigns, most of the guards have stopped their rotations. Nothing unusual has been reported...It's almost like they're on standby.++

++Probably taking a piss or gambling++ T'shere replied dismissively.

++Mercenaries aren't the most reliable of sorts. Still, keep me appraised.++

Before Arctet could reply, Seratheem said the words everyone had been dying for.

"...And that concludes our last standard item. We move onto our featured event."

The attendants sighed in relief at the news. The waiting was finally over. Every guest had all heard the rumours about this never-seen-before weapon, and how it could decisively end any conflict in the blink of an eye. It was time to see if it actually lived up to expectations.

"Finally," yawned Mysteel, stretching her arms from her seat.

"Don't you just hate it when someone goes off on a tangent like that?"

The irony of her words were not lost upon the Jedi but he decided not to comment. To his dismay, Seratheem continued to talk with a healthy dose of the dramatic.

"Now...I'm sure everyone is curious as to why this item has been kept so secret. My Master has had to maintain very strict security for its transportation, because if any of the Republic lapdogs caught wind of the weapon's sheer destructive potential-"

The huge Wookie sitting in the middle of the audience interrupted with a rumbling growl that sounded like two gears grinding together.

"Listen to me you tentacled freak. I don't care if you've got a warship behind you that runs off of virgin's piss and Rancor dung. Stop your pointless posturing before I turn your head into my codpiece."

The crowd gave supporting cheers, not bothering to point out Wookies were unabashedly naked to begin with.

"A-as you wish," stuttered the Twi'lek, flushing slightly.

_Let's see what the fuss is all about. _Thought Revan. Mysteel was rubbing her hands in anticipation at the prospect of looking at the cool new toy, sapphire eyes glittering.

"Oooh, I'm all pins and needles right now! What do you think it is? A cool new droid? A death ray? Reeka in a thong?"

Revan shook his head and continued to stare at the stage.

Seratheem clapped his hands twice. The curtain behind him parted again to reveal a gurney, supporting a tall, velvet covered object. When it reached the centre stage, there was a hushed silence.

After waiting for a good few seconds, Seratheem withdrew the cover with a flourish.

There was a confused gasp at the reveal.

_What in the... _

Everyone thought the weapon would be massive or intimidating, like a prototype battle droid or maybe even a huge cannon. Instead, at the centre of the gurney stood three canisters, each roughly two meters in width and diameter. It contained what resembled an awful lot like smoke. The inky substance writhed within its confines, constantly shifting, as if it threatened to spill out at any moment.

Everyone stared at the canisters, not quite sure what to make of the reveal.

++Well? What is it?++ asked T'shere curiously. The orator answered her question,

"This, ladies and gentlemen is what our generous benefactors call the '_Praeconor Oblivio_' - 'the Herald of Oblivion.'"

Seratheem said proudly. He drew one of his skinny hands back at the object in question.

"These canisters sustain a virus strain so potent, it will literally devour any organic material to its individual atomic components, consuming it utterly and leaving nothing but excrement in its wake."

There was an uncomfortable silence punctuated by a cough or two every few moments.

Mysteel looked like a girl who was just declared Miss Universe and was getting ready to receive her prize, only to find out the announcer had said the wrong name. She slumped back on her seat, deflating like a punctured pleasure doll.

Dejectedly, she turned to Revan and twirled a finger at her temple, obviously thinking the other Twi'lek had licked a dozen Rodian heads too many. If Seratheem was aware of the general disappointment, he hid it well.

"Make no mistake, one microbe of this virus can consume an entire Rancor. A drop of this exposed in the street can lay waste to an entire city. Strategically dispersed into the atmosphere? Well let's just say no planet would be able to sustain an ecosystem after you unleashed it properly."

Most of the crowd gave mutters of disbelief at this boast, obviously thinking the Twi'lek was lying. Some even jeered at the stage, obviously feeling and shortchanged. After all the elaborate promises, the ultimate weapon was ...gas?

Seratheem ignored the taunts and asked.

"So...do I have a starting bid?"

Nobody seemed particularly eager to oblige. They were still trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. Insults and jeers began to get louder.

++Looks like we were worried over nothing,++ remarked Kynes.

++Maybe that's why the cult stormed out on them.++ said Arctet hopefully. ++probably thought Reeka was wasting their time.++

Everyone was too underwhelmed by the revelation to comment. Revan in particular felt disappointed, wondering why he had been dragged halfway across the galaxy for this.

"That's it?" Snarled one of the mercenaries through the insults, voicing everyone's outrage. "You called us all here to sell us a...a _disease_? Screw that! If I want someone dead, I want them dead now! Not wasting away in some damn sickbed."

"I assure you, this _disease_ is more lethal than any conventional weapon you have ever seen," replied the Twi'lek calmly.

"Why don't you shove your cunt-shaped head into that stupid canister and show us how damn _lethal_ it really is?" growled the mercenary.

"We come all this way and you want us to bid on this...this _toy_ without any solid proof that it even works?"

Others echoed this angry sentiment. Despite the increasingly threatening situation, Seratheem grinned. "I wouldn't dare."

He snapped his fingers. Two attendants emerged from the backdrop pushing a cylindrical tube, roughly equal in height to the other canisters. But this one had a naked human in it, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. No doubt one of the countless wastrels that littered the streets, or maybe a former employee of Reeka that displeased him.

"To show you my words are no empty boast..." Seratheem trailed off as he took a black needle from one of his pockets and inserted it into the receptacle port on the nearest cylinder. There was a hissing sound as a fraction of the malignant substance passed into the syringe.

The Twi'lek eyed the measurements with a critical eye.

"One parts per hundred cubic meters. A bit of overkill, but to prove my point..."

With elaborate care, he inserted the needle into a similar looking port on the prisoner's tube.

As soon as Seratheem injected the contents into the prison, the human's pale skin began to erupt into angry red boils. They spread rapidly, ugly red pustules erupting onto his fleshy surface. Within moments of appearing, they burst open into milky white craters, spilling down his face in ugly rivulets of pus. The prisoner's expression turned from fear to pure horror as blood started to pour out his eye sockets, his nose and then his mouth.

At least it was supposed to be blood. The fluid was actually a sickly greenish white, mixed with a tinge of crimson. He vomited the disgusting substance, splattering it liberally on the glass confines, even as he began to convulse uncontrollably. As his shaking reached its zenith, the victim lost control of his bowels.

All the spectators observed this demonstration with different reactions. Some had looked away in disgust while other's had moist eyes of admiration. One of the slaves in the corner screamed at the horrid sight. Others followed suite or gagged on their tongues.

++What's going on Tails?++ asked T'shere urgently. ++All I hear is screaming,++

Mysteel was too horrified to reply.

For an agonizingly long period of time, the prisoner shat, retched and banged his hands on the glass tube, desperate for the release that would never come. Eventually, his skin began sloughing off like wax from a candle, leaving only bone and stringy gristles of muscle.

No one knew how long the defilement took, but for Revan and Mysteel, one second of this was already too long. After what seemed like an eternity to them, the slimy corpse thing slumped onto the base of his cage, stripped of semblance of what it used to be.

There was nothing left in the tube except for sludge, bones and the greenish black mucus. It looked worse than what would have passed out of the back end of a Hutt. Revan could still see tiny wisps of the airborne contagion writhing in the air before it finally dissipated.

Everyone was silent again, except this time, it was in rapt awe. Seratheem jumped at this chance to inject his delivery speech.

"As you can see, the virus spreads extremely rapidly, eating away foreign material at a phenomenally rapid rate. Any living cells are instantly consumed. Devoured. As a particular bonus, this virus is incredibly invasive. Without specially designed containment, the contagion will force its way into even supposedly impregnable vaults or air tight rooms. However the virus has a comparatively short half life to certain airborne toxins. It needs other organic material to feed on or it will burn out in a matter of hours without sustenance or proper safety protocols."

Seratheem paused to see if anyone would interject. Nobody said a word.

"Nevertheless, this is the most potent plague ever manufactured. Think what you could do if you had the ambition, planning and resources!"

The Twi'lek coughed, reigning in his unhealthy enthusiasm.

"But I digress. Now, does anyone have a starting bid?"

The room erupted in noise as every bidder jostled and shouted to be heard. Seratheem heard obscene numbers being tossed back and forth, too fast for him to catch them all. Even as he strained his lobes to make sense of the ruckus, Seratheem grinned.

Reeka would reward him very generously after this transaction was done. And all thanks to their...benefactors.

* * *

In Revan's corner of the room, the discussion was no less hectic.

"By the Force," said Mysteel. She looked decidedly pale for someone painted red. "If this virus gets unleashed..."

"It could bring the Republic to its knees." Revan finished the thought grimly.

"Imagine it…whole systems wiped out, unable to sustain life. What would take legions of armies and years to do...this weapon alone could do in an instant. No world would be safe. The entire infrastructure could collapse. A weapon to end all wars."

"We can't let that happen!" Mysteel whispered harshly, eyes hardening. "We won't!"

++Jedi,++ hissed Tshere, interrupting their arguments. Although she could not see the effects of the virus, the concern in their voices had unsettled her. When she spoke though, her voice was barely audible through the din.

++What are you waiting for? Make the damn bid!++

Revan didn't need to be told twice.

"Two million," he announced in a strong voice, doubling the price from the previous announcer. Many of his competitors cursed liberally,

The Wookie had stood up at this point. He roared in his own intelligible tongue. Revan realized the bid had just gone up to three million. Other bidders rose up to meet the challenge.

While the race went on, Revan heard Arctet announce something over the channel.

++I'm picking up something disturbing in the garrison's comm traffic. They've just gone to high alert++ He announced nervously.

++Why? What's happening?++ demanded the commander.

++The guards are reporting...intruders within their complex.++

++Intruders?" Echoed T'shere in disbelief. "that's impossible! We haven't seen anybody in or out their doors since we started monitoring them. How did they-?++

++I-I'm not sure. I'm just relaying what the transmissions are saying.++

Arctet voice sounded troubled as he continued.

++Their chatter indicates the automated defense grid has inexplicably activated and opened fire on friendlies. Multiple casualties, at all levels of the garrison complex already. Many lifesigns are diminishing or erratic. I'm also hearing a lot more static and screaming. It doesn't sound like it's going well for them. Actually it sounds like a slaughter.++

Revan strained his ears to hear telltale gunfire, but all he heard were bids being shouted out by his competitors at the top of their lungs. The Jedi was so distracted by this piece of news that he almost lost the opportunity to make his own offer.

"Five million," he called out hastily before whispering. "The intruders...do the guards describe them?"

++I...++

++This can't be right...++ interrupted Kynes. The normally stoic sniper's voice sounded worried.

++Survivors are saying some of the guards have turned on their own, killing indiscriminately. They're raving about hairless monsters attacking with the traitors that are impervious to their weapons. They're appearing all over the tunnels, killing anything that gets in their way.++

Revan heard a spitting sound on the other side of the channel.

++Force take those bastards! The guards are saying they're gorging on blood!++

++You'd better get the weapon quickly sir.++ said Actet in a worried voice. ++I...I think they're here.++

Nobody needed to ask who he meant. The Cult had arrived. Somehow they had infiltrated the garrison and were already reaping a bloody tally. T'shere's angry voice interjected in the conversation.

++Dammit, there's no time. You two need to get out now!++

"No! We're too close. We can't let the Cult get their hands on this thing!" said Mysteel urgently.

++This isn't up for debate Tails! Leave!++ the Arkanian shouted to be heard.

"Sis please!" pleaded the Twi'lek. "Think what our Master would do!"

There was a strained moment of indecision.

++All right.++ she said anxiously, ++But Tails, if the Jedi can't procure the item in the next two minutes, you will extract. That's an order. Is that clear?++

Mysteel murmured an affirmative.

For once Revan could agree. He raised his hand again.

"Thirty million!" He announced loudly. None of the other auctioneers could believe what they were hearing. Seratheem looked like he was going to have a heart attack, clutching his chest in ecstasy.

"D-does, anyone have another bid?" He stuttered in a thin reed voice.

"Forty million!" Snarled the Wookie in his native tongue. The shaggy creature glared at Revan defiantly. There was an uproar at the latest challenge.

"Fifty million," Revan countered. He hoped this wouldn't go on much longer. To his despair, the Wookie replied with seventy million.

++_Where_ do you bastards get this kind of money_?++ _T'shere fumed.

++Did the Jedi learn a technique that turns their piss into starship fuel? I guess that means Wookies shit uranium! Maybe that's why everybody let's them prance around naked!++

"Wow, this pissing contest is really turning me on," interrupted Mysteel in hushed undertones, looking decidedly anxious. "But we really don't have time for this,"

++Comm traffic just went dead!++ Came Arctet's anxious voice, ++They're closing on the your location. Hurry up!++

Revan was about to reply when he noticed that the remaining guards in the room were tapping their helmets and looking at each other anxiously. Some of them were trying to get Seratheem's attention but he was too immersed in the bidding. The Jedi decided to end this definitively before it could get out of hand.

"One hundred million," he shouted, throwing all his cards on the table.

There was a very strained period of silence. For a horrible moment, the Wookie looked like he could actually counter the bid. Mercifully, the shaggy beast sat back down on his seat, growling in dismay.

Seratheem looked positively giddy at the final sum. This was like one of his wet dreams, except now he was getting off from thinking about money. He dabbed his face with a sweat stained cloth.

"The...the closing bid stands at one hundred million. Going once..."

The waiting was intolerable. In the background, Revan could still hear Kynes and Arctet arguing just how the Cult managed to overcome security so quickly.

++I knew it.++ said Kynes darkly. ++the Cult was biding their time. They were waiting for everything to be in the right location...and then they struck.++

++But how did they manage to ambush all the guards? ++ Muttered Arctet.

++The guards wouldn't just stop patrolling and the garrison's defense system wouldn't just power up and go haywire.++

His tone of voice changed suddenly as if something occurred to him.

++Wait...Someone must have diverted the guards just to the right location and then programmed the guns to fire. Which means...++

He trailed off for a moment and began typing rapidly.

++I'm going to access the cameras in their control room++

++You're wasting time!++ said T'shere harshly. ++Help those two secure an escape vector!++

++No! Ignore that command. Keep going.++ said Kynes.

++Really Kynes? Really?++ snarled the commander. It sounded like her brain was about to haemorrhage. ++Of all the times, you're choosing to mutiny now?++

++Arctet's right T'shere! They need intelligence!++ snapped the sniper testily.

++Otherwise they'll be moving blind!++

An uncomfortable silence ensued.

++Do it,++ T'shere said darkly. ++But you and I are going to have words later Trickster. The kind where I shove my fist up your ass, and not in the good way!++

There were a tense few moments where rapid typing could be heard over their channel. Seratheem was asking for a competing bid one final time.

++Okay I'm in. Uploading real time footage to your terminal commander.++

There was a few moments of silence as the commander looked at the data.

"Wait...close up on that image and magnify. Frame 1738, where that person exposes part of his face to the camera." said T'shere over the channel.

A moment later, Revan heard collective gasps in his ear.

++By the Force," Kynes croaked. "It's...++

++That room leads straight to the back of the auction hall! ++ said Arctet in a panicked voice.

++He's heading for the entrance! I'm going to try and lock those gates down!++

++Both of you, leave now!++ snapped the commander as Arctet struggled to buy them time. ++Forget about the weapon, just leave!++

A sudden hissing noise at the back of the room made him caught his attention. The doors they had descended from suddenly clamped shut, the internal locks clicking into place.

_We're trapped. _The Jedi realized. _The enemy picked this place apart and trapped us in this room._

++Dammit, they've overridden the security!++ hissed Kynes ++They've sealed the garrison!++

She started shouting at her other scouts to help counter the lockdown.

++Revan!++ shouted T'shere over the channel, using his name for the first time. She sounded terrified. ++Listen to me! Whatever happens, remember your oath! Don't let-++

Revan didn't hear the rest of it as static suddenly took the channel. He exchanged worried looks with Mysteel as her line went dead as well.

Seratheem's voice interrupted him even as he waved frantically for the Jedi's attention It sounded several octaves higher, "Lord! Lord please! If you would just follow me again to this station, I'll-"

He never got to finish his sentence. A loud screeching noise emanated at the back of the curtains, like nails digging into a chalkboard but a hundred times worse. Everyone's hairs and furs stood on end, as the rending of metal became louder, followed by an increasingly loud noise of groaning metal. Some hellish entity was trying to force itself into their sanctum and it was succeeding.

Mysteel took this moment to glance at her partner.

"What do we do?" she whispered. Her eyes flashed with uncertainty, something the Jedi was unused to seeing from the boisterous Twi'lek.

"We get ready," replied Revan. He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber, loosening his muscles in anticipation.

"What in blazes was that?" squawked an auctioneer. Anxious murmurs erupted in the room. For the first time, Seratheem seemed to notice the commotion behind him. He gave the guards in the room an angry look.

"Find out what all that ruckus is!"

His subordinates seemed extremely reluctant but moved to comply. Eight of the guards began to march towards the curtain, but four of them lingered behind, strangely inert. Suddenly, in synchronous precision, they raised their weapons and opened fire on their erstwhile companions. Three of the guards collapsed instantly from the unexpected barrage.

Shouts of confusion and anger erupted in the room as mercenaries and guards alike moved to fire at the aggressors. Before they could put up any meaningful resistance, the ceiling mounted turrets activated and fired on Seeratheem's men.

Every attendant dropped to their knees and crowded under their chairs for cover.

One of the guards ducked too late and flew back, a smoking ruin. The corpse crashed into the throng of auctioneers causing more panic. The remaining loyalist guards and a pair of mercenaries were also cut to ribbons by the salvos of incandescent death raining from the ceiling.

Eventually the turrets stopped their murderous barrage and fell inert. The floor had become a smoking, charred ruin of pock holes littered with fresh corpses.

As he got back up to his feet, Revan noticed the traitor guards had dropped their blasters and began to encircle the survivors with eerie synchronicity. At exactly the same time, each guard took something metallic from their pouches.

The Jedi's eyes widened as he heard the telltale hiss of lightsabers being ignited.

_The Cult...they've been here all the time._

The surviving mercenaries gasped at the sight of the trademark weapons and lowered their guns. They knew that any resistance right now would be suicidal.

Suddenly, a crash was heard beyond the curtain as the intruders finally managed to shear way the last level of defence. Shouts of panic and gunfire were followed by screams. The pitch of terror reached a constant fervour, never relenting in the sheer agony of the sound.

The screaming beyond the veil died away, replaced by snarls and wet crunching noises. Many of the remaining survivors looked at each other anxiously.

Moments later, there were footsteps, dozens of footsteps, and the sound of scrapping feet approaching with deadly promise. The Jedi and Twi'lek tensed, instinctively lowering their stances.

The curtained opened.

_By the Force..._

Six hunched naked figures led the procession, bipedal slavering monsters that padded on their clawed hands and feet. They were humanoid in appearance, but their skin had been abused beyond recognition, taking on the texture of dirty melted plastic. An unnatural number of teeth jutted out from their elongated mouths. Their eyes were devoid of anything resembling sanity, red and black pits of hate. The monsters growled as they strained on metal leashes, soaked in the life blood of their prey. In short, they looked like...

_Abominations. T'shere called them Abominations._

Leading them on were humanoids dressed in Reeka's guard uniform, but these ones had taken off their visors. Like the beasts that preceded them, these newcomers were no less hideous, but their eyes still kept the spark of intelligence within them.

While each of their faces sprouted unique looking mutations and horrid skin diseases, there was an eerie resemblance within their countenance. Their jawline, the cheekbones, the general facial structure...

There could be no question that these warriors were the vanguard of the invading force, the aspirants of the Cult.

The aspirants snarled at their savage counterparts, brandishing their lightsabers and uttering threats in a foul tongue to keep them in line.

When the brutes had been brought to order, all the newcomers suddenly parted into two sides of the podium with commendable parade efficiency. A moment later, the curtain opened again and through the middle of the gap came he who was undoubtedly the leader, the aura of command and horror most prominent.

Revan understood then why someone like Tshere was afraid of the Reborn.

The figure was dressed in torn black rags that fluttered menacingly around his gaunt profile, like a second skin. The man was unhooded, his lank white hair falling to his side like tendrils. But it was the eyes, or rather lack thereof that drew his attention. Weeping sores of black fluid stared pitilessly at his prey.

This shambling horrors bowed and let their leader walk to the center of the podium. The newcomer looked at the terrified crowd and smiled.

"Hello," Said the Weeper to no one in particular. "Looks like I arrived...just in time,"

* * *

_Author's Note: Account is still behaving really strangely. Hopefully readers are no affected by this._


	15. Chapter 15  The Choice

_You smell like death._

_-Victus_

_

* * *

_

"Ladies and gentlemen...well met" said the leader of the newcomers in a strangely androgynous voice. Nobody responded. Many of the mercenaries looked indignant at this intrusion, but none dared to aim their weapons at the entourage or utter threats. All except one.

The Wookie was clearly unimpressed because he was stupid enough to stand up and roar out a curse.

"Filthy whoresons! You dare intrude on this private session? I swear I'll ri-"

No sooner had the words left his mouth when the speaker cocked his head in his direction. Without needing to utter a command, his hairless monstrosities charged towards the Wookie, braying for blood. Within a heartbeat they had leapt over other cowering figures and latched onto the shaggy form, clawing and shrieking.

The Wookie snarled in surprise and anger, swinging his mighty arms to fend off the sudden onslaught. He was easily twice the size and weight of his attackers, yet the Abominations were undeterred, their sheer ferocity and bloodlust more than a match for brute strength.

Like a pack of carrion hunters, they finally brought the leviathan toppling onto the ground, sapped of all its strength.

Within seconds, one had started eviscerating the Wookie's stomach. His scything claws tore through grisly meat to gnaw at the soft stringy intestines. Another had gripped the unfortunate creature by the neck and was biting off chunks of the hairy face with elongated fangs.

Their victim couldn't even scream out in agony while the fiends ripped him apart. Gouts of blood spurted across the room, the Wookie's steaming insides exposed like thick bloody sausages.

The audience stared on horrified. Some even bent over and heaved as they saw the once intimidating creature cannibalized.

The leader smiled unpleasantly at the scene for a moment before resuming.

"Let's try this again. My name is Victus. You can call me Weeper if you are so inclined. I represent the interests of _Renatus._ More commonly known as the Reborn. And as such, I require your cooperation."

Nobody dared to raise their voice in protest. The man who called himself Victus curled a finger at the guards across the room.

"…bring them closer,"

While the monsters were busy chewing on the defiled corpse, the rest of Victus' soldiers shambled forward and prodded the slaves and other survivors to the front of the podium, forming them into a rough line for inspection. None of the remaining mercenaries dared to resist or give voice, the mere presence of these monsters deterring any thoughts of fighting. Even the Cathar followed obediently, shocked mute by the sheer brutality of these fiends.

Revan remained inconspicuous within the gathered throng, making no overt moves. He thought rapidly, trying to determine the best course of action to this unfavourable development.

So far, nothing constructive came to mind.

The Jedi counted just over fifteen enemies, about the same number of surviving auctioneers. With these odds, it would be insane to think he could fight and prevail in such a hopeless scenario. The mercenaries would be no help at all. And while he could probably take on the Abominations, maybe even an aspirant or two, he had no hope against the entire warband.

More than likely, the blaster turrets would burn him into a crisp before he could even make his first kill.

It wasn't just being hopelessly outnumbered, there were too many unknown variables at the moment. Looking past their seemingly undisciplined appearance and guttural snarls, these warriors moved with an eerie sort of synchronization. The Jedi remembered when the disguised aspirants fired their weapons with terrifying coordination. They had moved with such lockstep parade efficiency, something no amount of drilling could have produced.

It was almost if they had some sort of gestalt awareness, a consciousness that went beyond simple familiarity. Revan decided it would not be prudent to engage without knowing the full scope of this ability.

Worst yet, his head had begun to throb painfully. It started off as a weird chattering noise, like a thousand insects hovering over his head. Then it became daggers of pain, which dug deep into the meat of his brain. It robbed him of his reflexes and clogged his thought process. Gritting his teeth, Revan put a hand over his forehead, trying to focus but only found a maelstrom of anguish.

_How…how are they doing this?_

The Jedi didn't know the source of this infliction, but he noticed the other prisoners seemed similarly affected, although not to the same extent as him.

He spared a brief glance at his companion, who for once seemed to be at a lost for words. Gone was her confident demeanor, replaced by what could only be described as pure horror. Most disturbingly, her tentacles and shoulders were trembling. The Jedi could see the whites of Mysteel's eyes , her gaze never leading the leader.

_She's terrified._

Revan didn't know the exact source of the fear but he realized it went far deeper than simple revulsion at the impromptu feast. She _knew _this man, and her reaction was spoke volumes. Victus was someone not to be trifled with. The best Revan could hope for right now was to remain unnoticed.

Victus waited until his subordinates had finished lining the survivors into rows. A faint frown creased his hideous features as if he noticed something he shouldn't. The gaunt apparition shrugged and spoke again.

"I'm sure your time is very precious, so I'll get to the point. I have come for one thing, and one thing only."

The speaker glanced towards the side. Seratheem was standing immobile like a statue on the podium, scared shitless. The Twi'lek looked even chalkier than before, thinking the monster meant to target him next. But it wasn't the Twi'lek Victus was interested in.

Smiling, the newcomer swept past him and towards the main attraction. He placed a tender hand on the most malevolent weapon known in existence.

"_Ingenium Oblivio" _Victus read from the metal stud on the top of the cage. "How very apt..."

He glanced to the side and noticed the other tube where the offal remains of the human laid.

"...and efficient..." grinned the Sith Lord.

Apparently, his slaves sensed the Sith Lord's approval because they all started panting in unison, inky black slaver flowing in rivulets down their jaws.

Victus composed them with a flick of his hand and turned back to address the terrified audience.

"No doubt all of you have come in the hopes of acquiring such a magnificent engine of destruction, in the hopes of furthering your petty schemes. Sadly, this will not be, for I will be taking it away for a greater purpose."

None of the assembled crowd had enough courage left to object. However, greed overrode Seratheem's better sense at that moment as the Twi'lek blurted out.

"You can't! It's been bought!"

There was a very long period of silence. Victus gave the Twi'lek a sideways glance. A direct stare probably would have struck him deaf, dumb and infertile.

"Oh really," remarked the Weeper in a deceptively calm voice. "By who, pray tell?"

"A-a Sith. A Sith Lord..."

For some reason the words seemed extremely funny to their captors. The monsters laughed uproariously, a grating noise that sounded like a rumbling avalanche. Victus led the mirth with his own voice before dying down.

"You mean a pretender." He remarked eventually. "It never ceases to amaze me how casually people use the word 'Sith' like a badge of honor."

Seratheem face scrunched up in confusion. His deathly pale skin and sharp teeth were meant to be intimidating, but the Twi'lek looked like a pathetic joke compared to Victus and his brood.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"Didn't you know?" said Victus, feigning confusion. "There are no Sith left in this galaxy. All we have now are children stumbling in the dark, foolishly claiming the rights of a forgotten age. The Sith as a race can no longer be said to legitimately exist. They are no more than an afterthought that lesser beings aspire to. Foolishly."

Victus gave him an unpleasant smile as he continued. "Only the _Renatus_ can claim a legitimate connection to their dubious bloodline. So if you want to call someone a 'Sith', you may address me as such."

The horrid man examined his clawed hands.

"But if you did, I would have to kill you because I view it as something of an insult."

More jarring laughter echoed in the room at the Tw'lek's expense. Seratheem's didn't know how to reply, his mouth working in wordless gasps.

"So tell me...who is this self styled 'Sith Lord' that claims the right of possession?"

The Twi'lek continued to stutter wordlessly. Before anyone could blink, Victus grabbed the alien by the robes and hoisted him up effortlessly with one hand.

_Who? _The Weeper hissed. His face had contorted into a monstrous snarl, his humours changing as abruptly as a coming storm. His cohorts hissed at their prisoners as well, mimicking their leader's rage. Black drool spattered onto Seratheem's face.

His victim remained mute, more out of fear than any loyalty to the buyer. But Seratheem's eyes betrayed him for a split second as they flickered at the Jedi. Victus followed the look to stare directly at Revan, putting the other man directly into his crosshairs. Like clockwork, all newcomers turned to stare at him.

"Well, look at you," remarked Victus. There was a curious tone in his voice.

_Damnation. So much for subterfuge._

The masquerade was over. Revan knew it and he knew Victus knew it. He might have been able to fool the other dullards, but Victus seemed to be able to see _in _him, despite an apparent lack of eyes. And what Victus saw was a fraud, in every sense of the word.

With his cover blown, the Jedi straightened and allowed himself take a long look. Both warriors sized the other person up for a long moment.

He had never seen somebody so hideous. The Sith Lord's clothing was torn and haphazard, unlike the smooth billowing robes most of his kind preferred. But on closer inspection, he realized they weren't even really robes. The texture was all wrong, and it had an oily sheen.

_Skin _Revan realized in disgust. _He's wearing skin._

The self styled Sith Lord descended from the podium, with a predatory smoothness. The two never broke eye contact, both of their worlds shrinking to contain only the other. Victus was only one person, but Revan felt like he was trying to stare down a star on the verge of supernova. This man _was _power, power chained into fleshy prison that threatened to erupt at any moment. It _hurt _just to look at him.

Revan had to forcefully remind himself not to flinch away.

From the corner of his eye, he notice Mysteel had submerged among the survivors, as if she could not bear the new scrutiny. He knew their fates hanged on a knife's edge now, and the next few moments would determine whether anyone could escape with their lives.

During this battle of silent wills, one of the mercenaries spoke in a shrill voice.

"Look. I-I don't want any part of this. You can have the damn weapon. You can have everything. Just let me-"

Victus didn't even glance his way but the speaker immediately started choking, clutching at his neck. A moment later he fell to the floor, clawing deep gouges into the veins on his neck, his face turning a pasty purple.

The others continued to stare on in mute horror, not even daring to scream for fear of incurring a measure of the madman's wrath.

The Sith Lord walked on as if nothing happened before finally reaching his target. Victus began circling the Jedi with deliberate slowness, like he was observing a very peculiar sculpture. At one point, Victus leaned in and _sniffed _at him. The Jedi didn't flinch, waiting for an opening to exploit. Eventually Victus stopped and stared straight into the Jedi's face for a long moment.

Without warning, the fiendish figure reached out and grabbed his neck in a vice like grip. Victus was so freakishly fast, that the Jedi didn't even have time to react.

Revan gasped at the contact. He suddenly felt an unbearable pressure then in the back of his head, invisible tendrils digging viciously into his brain. Neurons misfired, and his whole body spasmed. The Jedi tried to pull back, but his body felt like a lead suit and it was taking every ounce of his willpower to stop the mental assault. Victus seemed unfazed by the resistance.

"Your name," commanded the Weeper.

"Revan," the words were out of the his mouth before he knew it. Revan was surprised that he obeyed the order without resisting. No one had ever stripped through his mental defenses so easily.

His head was pounding now, almost like someone was hitting him with a sledgehammer over and over again. The world was becoming a red haze of indistinguishable objects.

"I can see why the others believed your deception." remarked Victus, showing him an unpleasant grin.

"You smell like death."

Revan kept trying to pull away but the Weeper kept him in a iron vice.

"Hmmmm…." The Weeper husked. "You are from the Order. And _Excommunicated_ no less. I guess that makes us comrades in arms."

The Jedi didn't know what jarred him more. The fact that Victus he knew his predicament, or they were cut from the same cloth. The other man gave him a mocking look.

"Don't look so surprised. The word is burned into your brain like a brand of shame."

The alarms in his head were ringing. This monster was peeling through his memories like layers of an onion. Somehow the Sith Lord could read his mind, or least his surface thoughts. Instinctively, he forced his most private memories into the deepest part of his psyche, hoping the Sith Lord could not follow. If Victus noticed the change, he didn't show it.

"So what did you do? Stand in their splotlight? Fart in the council's holy presence?"

He laughed.

"Whatever the case, it is always good to know that some laws of reality stay the same. Shit still falls from the top to bottom."

His tongue darted out to lick his shriveled lips, moving like a sly serpent. "But I shouldn't be too harsh. We are _brothers _after all_._"

The word appalled the Jedi beyond words. "I am nothing like you," growled Revan.

"No?" Responded the Sith Lord with a leer. "Oh come now, it is not so bad. Case in point, without the Council's oppressive thumb, you can do whatever you want. You know…things that a proper _villain_ should do."

Victus laughed at the Jedi's expense, clearly enjoying a himself.

"In fact, why don't we go do something fun together? Maybe find some backwater planet and kill some farmers. Then we could eat the livestock and rape their wives."

His minions nodded in unison, giving approving sounds at the suggestion.

"From what I've heard…" grunted the Jedi between his futile struggles. "You're more likely to rape the livestock and eat the wives."

The tall, hideous man let out a horrid bark of laughter that was echoes by his lickspittles. For a Sith, the man did seem to have a good sense of humor.

"So you _have_ heard of me." Said Victus looking indecently pleased. "And here I thought all Jedi have forgotten their mistakes."

He threw an arm around the paralyzed Jedi's shoulder with unpleasant familiarity.

"Have you noticed whenever the council tries to throw their dirty secrets into the void, it always comes to bite them in the ass?"

Revan didn't reply. He felt like he was suffocating, the proximity of this…_thing_ was almost unbearable.

The Weeper leaned in to whisper in a conspirational tone with his captive.

"Actually here's a better question, can you remember the last good decision they made?" When Revan didn't reply, Victus smiled.

"Neither can I,"

The room filled with sycophantic laughter again, none louder than Victus himself. He let himself indulge in the euphoria a few more moments longer before turning his attention on the silent Jedi.

"But enough of that. I meant to say…there is something different about you." He shook the man's head like a puzzle box. "You've been...tainted. Unnatural. It is almost as if you are physically here...but not completely,"

"I-I wish I could say the same for you," Revan managed to reply through gritted teeth. The man gave off a putrid stench, worse than any rotting corpse he ever encountered. Try as he might, the Jedi couldn't move or concentrate.

Dark forbidden words continued to claw at the back of his mind, trying to find a crack in his armor. Victus leaned in uncomfortably close, as if straining to hear noises in the other man's skull.

"Remarkable..." hissed Victus as if the Jedi had never spoken. "I see...colors and a myriad of different voices in your mind screaming for release, but no one heeds their call."

Between the hammering din in his head and the mounting pain, the words were nonsensical. The best Revan could do was stare defiantly back, trying not the faint.

"Something did this you. I would dearly like to know what that is."

The Sith Lord used his iron like hold to force Revan down onto his knees. The Weeper grinned wickedly as he unhooked his lightsaber from his belt, which ended with a wickedly barbed tip.

"In fact...let's crack open that pretty head of yours. I want to take a closer look…'under the hood'."

"No!"

The terrified shriek came from within the crowd. Revan's tormentor froze and at the sound, as if he had just heard a very unpleasant fart.

Gradually he looked up with his baleful stare, which had been known to leave woman barren and strike people dead.

The sea of captors parted to avoid the horrid scrutiny, leaving only one witness.

It was Mysteel, surrounded by her captors. The Twi'lek was staring at the floor, shuddering quietly, not daring to look Victus straight in the face.

"Please...don't," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

Victus stared at her for a long moment as something strange clouded his features.

"You..."

Abruptly the Weeper tossed the paralyzed Jedi at his warriors. They hauled him roughly to the ground, face planted on the floor. Revan was too stunned to resist, his head still throbbing from the mental assault.

Victus stalked the trembling Twi'lek who seemed frozen to the spot. She gave choking gasps as the other man drew near, black pits narrowed in scrutiny. With a snarl, he grabbed her by one of her tentacles and squeezed.

Mysteel shrieked more in terror than in pain, but Victus ignored the screams. He twisted and withdrew his hand before inspecting it.

It was smeared in red paint. A glint of gold could be seen where he had mauled the female. He looked back up at Mysteel with a feral expression.

"It _is _you. I should have smelled you the moment I walked into this room."

The Weeper's face twisted into one of bestial rage, drained of all his previous amusement.

"_What are you doing here?"_

In mindless fury, Victus swung his metal fist at the nearest bystander. The unfortunate victim's head came apart like ripe fruit splattering on concrete. A plethora of blood and stringy grey matter launched in all directions, splattering the nearby spectators. Many of the mercenaries and slaves screamed in terror at the violent display, barely kept in line by the aspirants.

Mysteel fell to the floor and buried her hands in her sobbing face, drenched in brain matter.

"_It's too soon," _snarled the Sith Lord, ignoring the cries of terror. "The _Renatus_...he said nothing of this! This is not the path we are supposed to take!"

He straightened suddenly as realization dawned upon him. With a constant growl that sounded like the whirr of a starship engine, he marched back to where the Jedi was being pinned down.

Victus grabbed a fistful of dark hair and forced the Jedi to look at his face.

"You! You brought her here didn't you? Tell me!"

Revan grunted in effort to resist the vicious command but otherwise remained silent, not giving the bastard the satisfaction of an answer. Victus did not need verbal confirmation, he could see it in the Jedi's eyes. He dropped the man's head back on the blood-stained floor.

"This...this is not right..." whispered Victus into the air. He sounded almost worried.

"This is not the path _He_ foresaw."

His minions were becoming just as restless. The illusion of perfect harmony within their troupe broke then. They started arguing in a tongue incomprehensible to everyone in the room except Revan. Even while he lay half dazed, he could understand out the language the others were conversing in.

It was a dead language, but unmistakably the ancient tongue of the Sith. The real Sith that originated from Korriban before their extinction three thousand years ago. Except this dialect was all wrong, bastardized. Their inflections had changed and many of the words were foreign to his ears. Still he could make out enough phrases of this particular ergot to understand their conversation.

"What does this mean?" sputtered one of the warriors. "We could have killed her and never known about it. The Master's vision would have shattered here and now."

"This wretch has interfered with the path, that's what!" snarled the warrior pinning Revan down by his hair. The brute slammed his head against the floor, eliciting a grunt of pain.

"The _Renatus_ has never been wrong!" gibbered one of the disguised guard, taking off his helmet. His mouth was so malformed with his dozens of extra teeth, it was difficult to make out the words.

"He said our salvation would be here and it is here!"

"He also said the overgrown greenskin filth would be among our victims!" retorted the first aspirant. "Does anyone here besides you look like a giant snail with a tumor growing up its arse?"

Both of the cursed each other in blistering string of words too quick to follow.

"Th-that means it is no longer pre-ordained!" Another warrior stuttered. "How is this possible?"

All the aspirants wailed then in synchronous fury, sensing each other's despair. As, they all looked to their leader for guidance.

"Weeper...what should we do?" He asked in a distressed voice. "Do we kill this interloper?"

"Yesssss," snarled the first and most aggressive among Victus' brood. "Kill them, kill them all! The vision is worthless now!"

"Fool! Did you not remember the _Renatus' _words? It must happen exactly as he said!"

"This part of his vision is already distorted! Who is to say the rest is not false?"

The aspirant pointed an accusing finger at the sobbing Twi'lek.

"And besides. I tire of this charade. I don't care if the _Renatus_ wantsthis sniveling female alive. It has been too long since I have tasted female flesh! Kill them all! We would have done so anyways!"

The abominations and other aspirants snarled in approval at these words, their bloodlust plain to see. They raised their claws and lightsabers in anticipation. It looked like the auction room was about to become another slaughterhouse.

The aspirant who suggested the bloodletting stalked towards the Twi'lek, panting in anticipation. But before he got within two feet, Victus was in upon him, his movements too fast to register. The Sith Lord backhanded his wayward subordinate, launching the body wildly into the air. He crashed into his comrades eliciting curses and shouts of confusion.

Victus rounded on his dissenting slaves with barely suppressed fury.

"Enough!" he snarled, startling everyone. His voice sounded like it had magnified a hundred fold.

"Are you questioning the Master's foresight? Are you going to parade this pathetic human in front of the Reborn and tell him he was wrong? I will have all your tongues!"

The aspirants disentangled their bodies, looking furious. They were about to lash out at their leader when a strange thing happened. The abominations began whimpering and pawing at the floor. The aspirants started growling as if in dismay, shaking their heads in unison as if trying to fend off an invisible force.

Revan looked around and saw Victus' face strained in concentration. It appeared the monster was trying to impose his own will on his subordinates, to deter their aggressive action and it seemed to be working. However, the effort was clearly taxing as the Sith Lord's brow became more furrowed with each passing moment.

"Malleus is _not wrong! _Victus hissed through gritted teeth.

"This will play out exactly as _He _ordained."

Without another word, he stalked back to where Revan was being held. Victus hauled the dazed Jedi effortlessly to his feet. He could smell the stench of tainted blood in the other man's breath as he leaned in close.

"Get out of here..." Victus rasped in Galactic Standard. "Take that female and go back into the hole you crawled out from.

At first Revan thought he misheard. Victus was going to let him go? Why would he possibly do that? The bastard held all the cards. He would gain nothing by freeing them…except…

He quickly mulled through the conversation the monsters exchanged. Victus seemed to think this encounter was not supposed happen in their carefully laid plans. In fact, he seemed to think it went against a pre-defined course of action. That it actually contradicted _destiny_.

Revan often thought that there was a certain inevitability to his life. Especially recently, he was running through a course of events that could not be altered. But here was a madman, raving about how fate had been changed.

It seemed so ludicrous that someone could alter reality. Victus couldn't _know _that the Twi'lek shouldn't be here. And yet...

If Revan hadn't been dropped him into this forsaken dirtball, he would never have made it to the auction. By extension Mysteel would not have followed him here. Looking back, certain events did seem feel unnatural.

Something his handler told him nagged at the back of his mind then.

_What was it the Watcher said again? That the right person at the right place can change the skeins of fate?_

Had his presence really altered the course of events that were supposed to take place? Victus definitely seemed to think so. And right now, it looked like he wanted to do damage control, to ensure their plans were not spoiled by this…interruption.

_Mysteel…they don't want her here. But she's obviously important to their plans._

The notion worried him. He didn't know what relationship the Twi'lek or for that matter any of T'shere's group shared with these horrid creatures, but it seemed to important in this tense situation.

"What does the girl mean to you?" he found himself asking.

Victus ignored the question and pointed at Mysteel with a savage jerk. She still lay shuddering quietly on the ground.

"Take her and begone from here!" He snarled. "Your path to the outer garrison wall will go unchallenged. Run to your allies, I do not care if they retrieve you. But do not linger around the walls, or all of you will suffer a particularly nasty case of 'friendly fire'. _Run_ from this cursed island if you have to."

The Jedi was pretty his threats were a bluff. It was clear to him that Victus needed her alive for some purpose. But it was also clear that his minions were on the verge of open revolt. The Sith Lord's influence seemed to be rapidly waning, the tide of bloodlust circumventing his iron will. If he didn't take the Twi'lek away soon, they would be butchered like cattle, whether Victus allowed it or not.

"And the rest?" Revan asked. He looked past the Sith Lord, towards the other spectators that were dead eyed and fearful. All of them were too cowed to give voice anymore. The slaves had huddled into small tiny groups, trying their best to be ignored.

Victus gave his other prisoners the briefest glance.

"Blood demands blood. Their fates were written the moment they stepped into this room."

Revan felt his pulse quickening at the words. In all probability, Victus was going to use the others as playthings to sate his minion's bloodlust. He could only imagine what sort of tortures these sick individuals were capable of.

"What will you do with them?"

For a moment, the smile returned to the Weeper's cruel lips. His teeth were permanently stained with the blood of countless victims.

"You don't want to know."

That smile told him everything. It was worse than he thought. They were going to eat them. All of them. There might be some rape in between, but in the end every soul in this room would die a horrible death.

_Depravity doesn't even begin to describe it._

His head turned back to the slaves, the poor young slaves. None of them were older than twenty and all of them were victims of circumstance. Poor, frightened children in an uncaring universe. As prostitutes, they would have at least lived in some sense of the word. Now to be sacrificed for the pleasure of these monsters…

At that moment, he seriously considered attacking the Sith Lord. He knew in his current state, he wouldn't even get a good shot in before Victus or the Abominations tore him into shreds. But at that moment, he really didn't care.

This was it. He would die protecting the slaves, in a righteous cause. The thought appealed to him. It would be his last defiant act as a servant of the Republic.

_I might not be part of the Order anymore, but I can still die like a Jedi should _he thought savagely.

His nerveless fingers twitched for his weapon, until he noticed Mysteel, still crying on the floor, surrounded by the savage cannibals.

He remembered T'shere's forceful words back at their base.

_Swear it Jedi, swear it on the false order you serve that you will do nothing that will bring harm to my sister._

His hands faltered for a second. He had sworn an Oath to protect the girl. Granted it was done on very flimsy pretense, but it was an Oath all the same. If he died now, there was no guarantee that Mysteel would make it out alive.

_I have to try._ thought Revan through gritted teeth, even as another voice, the voice of reason echoed resonantly through his ears.

_No, you have to live. Live to fight another day. Dying for these slaves…that is selfish choice in the grand scheme of things._

His rational side was telling him to take the Sith Lord's offer, insisting it was the smartest choice. It was either that or die pointlessly. Alek was always joking how he always seemed to favor the latter.

Still…he couldn't just leave them to die here, especially the slaves…

But what could he do? It was not like he could make any difference right now…could he?

The next few seconds were the hardest of his life. Fight or flight? Honor or self preservation? His noble instincts warred against his better judgment for many moments, but eventually his calculating mind won over.

_Damn me…damn me for being so weak._

With agonizing slowness, he unclenched his fists. Victus seemed unsurprised by Revan's decision.

"Very wise," growled the Sith Lord through clenched teeth. "Now get out before they kill you."

Victus turned his head towards the exit. The flashing red light on the lock stopped blinking and the door hissed open. Slowly, Revan walked to where the tearful Twi'lek sat, her head tucked down to her knees. With a gentle hand, he guided her back to her feet.

"It's okay, follow me. You'll be fine."

Mysteel sobbed but complied. She got up on shaky feet and buried her head into his shoulder, not daring to look around her. Revan supported her weight and started moving for the door. The other stared at the pair as if they couldn't believe they were leaving. Some tried to follow desperately, but were beaten back with sharp hisses and blows to the head.

With every step Revan could hear curses thrown his way. The Aspirants insults meant nothing to him but it was the hostages he was leaving behind that actually struck home.

"W-What are you doing? You can't just leave us with them? Come back here! Save us!" shrieked one of the slaves.

"Bastard!" shouted one of the mercenaries.

"Coward!"

_Coward…Yes, this is the coward's way out_. He thought bitterly. Revan had gone past the metal door but stopped at the stairs, giving one last look at the Weeper.

"This isn't over," The Jedi growled. The words were meant to be intimidating, but it sounded like more like a petulant child.

"Of that, I have never been in doubt," Victus replied somewhat cryptically. "Stop tarrying. Things are about to get… out of hand."

The metal barrier between the Jedi and Victus hissed closed with deafening finality. Revan stood at the stairwell for a long moment. He couldn't see what happened then, but he could hear. Force take him, he could hear everything. There were the monster's heavy panting…the padding of feet and scraping of claws. They emitted a wet gurgling growl, strained in its anticipation.

Then he heard the pitiful gasping sounds of their prey.

It was a disturbing sound. The sound people make when they can see something terrible about to happen but are helpless to stop it. Like seeing a baby crushed in slow motion by a Rancor's feet. Revan heard the Cathar's voice within the growing din.

"Get away from me you filthy whoresons! You're nothing but degenerates!

The curses were meant for the Sith, but he couldn't help but feel they were for him as well. He could justify it any way he tried but Revan knew this was cowardice on his part. Plain and simple.

He made it up three steps of stairs when the screaming started.

"What are you doing? No! Aieeehhhh!"

Mysteel almost fainted at the noise. Revan had to hold her up by the arm before they could resume walking. That walk up the stairs were the longest of The Jedi's life. Revan could hear every tortured scream, every shriek of terror as he left the prisoners to their fate.

They were sounds that would haunt him forever.


	16. Chapter 16 Atonement

_Small steps corrupt._

_-Revan_

_

* * *

_

When her channel with the wayward pair had abruptly cut off, T'shere had felt a dread so resonant, her heart actually skipped a few beats. The commander had never been so afraid in her life, not for herself or ever. Frantically, she had screamed at her scouts to re-establish contact. When that didn't work, she barged out of the vehicle, fully prepared to kick the front gates down and charge in herself and damning the consequences.

The Arkanian had to be forcibly restrained by Kynes and a pair of scouts. For a few seconds, she railed uselessly, cursing them all for cowards. When her desperation played out, she collapsed into the sniper's arms as the full horror of their situation dawned upon her. Her beloved sister was in the clutches of those monsters and there was nothing she could do. She imagined all the depravities the poor Twi'lek would endure and felt sick to her stomach. As her scouts settled her back onto the vehicle, the Arkanian kept whispering the same words under her breath like a mantra.

_Force don't let this happen. Please bring her back to me…_

It was only when T'shere was on the verge of tears that her prayers were miraculously answered. Revan and Mysteel had emerged past the huge metal doors.

The two were greeted with a mixture of surprise and joy. When Mysteel caught sight of her sister, both of the females ran and threw themselves at each other in a crushing hug. The sisters sobbed incoherently for many minutes, hugging and kissing each other's cheeks but never saying a word.

Eventually, Mysteel begged them to leave this awful place in a tear filled plea. The Arkanian was only too happy to comply. The other transports in the vicinity had beat a hasty exit when they lost contact with the mercenaries inside. And the battlements around the garrison had become alive. Every turret was now pointed in their direction, with targeting lasers glittering on their vehicle like rubies. The message was clear.

_Get. Out._

_

* * *

_

Shortly afterwards, all the scouts had returned and the vehicle made a hasty departure back to base. As the foreboding fortress disappeared into the horizon, one of the scouts asked if the survivors needed first aid. Neither of them replied. Mysteel still clung to T'shere in a tight embrace, too relieved or scared to let the other one go. Revan just sat to the side, stone faced and unresponsive.

"Thank the Force your alive," T'shere whispered over and over again, stroking Mysteel's head. Her younger sister just continued to sob quietly on her shoulder.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're safe."

So for a long time, there was only quiet sobbing and murmurs. That and the loud chugging noise of the vehicle as it left the desolate island. For a long while, nobody dared to talk about the pressing issue. In fact, most of the team, like Arctet and T'shere were simply glad the pair had made it out alive and unscathed.

Kynes however, stared at Revan and Mysteel with narrowed eyes, plainly suspicious as to how they managed to walk out of that deathtrap uninjured.

The sniper chose to talk quietly with her scouts about some of the discoveries they had made earlier. But a few minutes later, curiosity took over and she moved up to where the trio sat.

"What happened? Why did Victus let you go and nobody else?" asked Kynes without preamble.

Silence was her only response. Revan had not said a single word to anyone since they had returned and Tshere remained busy consoling her sister. Mysteel was a wreck, her tear stained face mixed incongruously with the red and black paint, making her look like a particularly unhealthy junkie. She shook uncontrollably on the Arkanian's breast, grasping the other woman like a lifeline.

Ignoring her commander's increasingly hostile look, the sniper took a deep breath and asked.

"What I mean is…did…did he do anything to you two?"

T'shere threw her a nasty signal which clearly told her to shut the hell up. Her counterpart did not back down.

"It has to be asked. If these two have been compromised, we have to know." Kynes fingered one of her pistols idly, as if she suspected the two survivors would change into horrible monsters at any second.

"Look, I don't want to do this thankless job, but if something happened to you, we need to take…precautions. So let's not make this difficult. I need facts. Now."

Neither of the two seemed to be especially forthcoming.

The sniper turned to Revan, thinking to demand a recount, but one look in his direction made her think better of the idea. There were very few things that scared the hardened sniper veteran, but looking at the Jedi now...

Something about his expression made it very clear to her that pissing him off at this moment would be a very bad idea.

Apparently her volatile commander thought so too because T'shere patted her sister's head comfortingly before murmuring. "Tails…sweetie, please. We must know what happened. Why did Victus let you go?"

Mysteel raised her head from the Arkanian's breasts and shook her head slightly. "I-I'm not sure," she replied in a quavering voice, each word punctuated by hiccups and ragged breathing.

"I-I just remember them slaughtering the guards...th-that poor Wookie. I-I tried to hide in the crowd, but Victus...he recognized me. I could feel his hate like a dagger twisting in my heart. Force, he was so _angry._"

Mysteel began hyperventilating as the horrid memory flashed before her eyes. T'shere pillowed the Twi'lek's head against her bosom comfortingly.

"Shhh, I'm here. Don't worry, he can't hurt you anymore."

Eventually Mysteel composed herself enough to speak again.

"Then those...those _things_ started arguing with each other. It sounded like they wanted to kill all of us. I r-really thought I would die in that room. "

Mysteel's tear streaked face became confused.

"But-but then Victus stopped them. H-he told Revan to me take and leave before things got out of hand. Th-then Revan helped me walk out of that hideous place before V-Victus lost control. And…we left them. Those girls….we just left them there to…ooooh"

Mysteel's face turned a sickly green. She buried her head and starting crying again into T'shere's shoulder.

"That's not your fault Tails. Shhh. Come here."

T'shere continued to murmur quietly her into her sister's lobe while giving her reassuring squeezes.

"Victus actually stopped his other slaves from attacking you?" echoed the sniper incredulously. Her tone made it clear she didn't believe it.

"Did he say why he needs you alive? To further his agenda? If that's the case, it sounds like you _have_ been compromised."

"Shut up, Trickster!" snapped Tshere angrily. She twisted her head to throw the other woman a venomous glare.

"We'll discuss this when we get back."

"It's not safe to!" retorted Kynes, in an equally threatening tone. "For all we know, they could have been infected. At the very least, I should do a full body checkup on them. See if they have signs of the-"

"She's my sister, not a piece of meat for you to poke and prod on!" the commander cut in venomously.

"Drop it Kynes. I'm this close from drop kicking your perfectly shaped ass into a coma."

Both women stared at each other with undisguised hostility. A single cough broke the spell. The women whipped their heads to see a very nervous looking Arctet.

"What?" snapped T'shere impatiently.

"Well..I…ah…" the young man fumbled for words, but failed under the withering glares of his superiors. Right now, T'shere looked like she had taken a bite out of a meatloaf only to find out it was Rancor turd.

"Arctet," said the commander in a deceptively soft voice. "When I was about your age, my mother told me that if I kept my mouth open like that, a Jawa would try to sneak in and set up shop there. She also told me if you kept your mouth open on Ryloth, it meant you wanted to hire a prostitute. So either start talking or close your damn mouth. And, beware of Jawas and whores."

Arctet finally seemed to find his voice.

"Right, sorry," He said hastily. "But Kynes... Y-you wanted us to tell you when we managed to..."

"Did it work?" snapped Kynes, her steely eyes narrowing in consternation.

Arctet gulped. "Y-Yes"

For once, the sniper actually smiled.

"You're going to want to hear him..._commander."_ said Kynes, stressing the last word. "While you were fretting over your sister, Arctet actually did something useful."

T'shere glared at her insolent sniper before reluctantly tearing her gaze back to the pseudo-scout,

"Make this good." she growled.

"Okay... s-so you know how all of us were wondering how Victus could have slipped through our security net?"

"I still am." said T'shere darkly. "We had every entrance monitored, and nothing had come in or out since we arrived."

She gave the youth a hard look.

"I take it you've had an epiphany?"

The scout nodded cautiously.

"Well...yes. I realized the only explanation why we didn't see them pass is because the Cult must have been there before us. They must have gone into the garrison undetected. And they could only do that with proper clearance codes and channels. Which means they probably hijacked a vehicle and some uniforms to fool security."

"In other words…they were hiding in plain sight, using Reeka's own resources against him." Said T'shere grimly.

"Exactly!" said Arctet with more enthusiasm. "So it stands to reason that they need to use at least one of the vehicles to get back wherever they came from. Probably more than one if they're going to ferry the weapon back with them as well."

He looked at the commander hopefully. "And since our ultimate goal is to find their base anyways, I thought we could try tracking those transports. Let them lead us back to the source."

T'shere scoffed at that notion, plainly unimpressed.

"Are you as thick as the garrison walls? Unless you can teleport and are immune to disembowelment, it's not going to happen. In case you've forgotten the entire place is on _lockdown_."

Arctet shrank under her admonishing tone. Kynes gave the commander an annoyed look.

"He wasn't finished T'shere. Stop trying to put him down all the time and start listening to someone for a change."

The two females exchanged smoldering glares. Arctet's presence on the scout squad was always a sore spot between the two. Kynes had always inexplicably favored the youth even though he was helpless with firearms. But T'shere never warmed up to Arctet, thinking he was too raw and nervous for field duty. Granted, you could see his mind was sharp once you got past his stumbling tongue. But in her mind, he had no place on the team if he couldn't fight.

Things looked like they were going to get out of hand. Arctet hastily injected before the two could get into a catfight.

"You're right, that would be a stupid idea. But I was analyzing the network we hacked into earlier and after some poking around, I realized that one of their computers was a server."

The words did move the Arkanian. "So?"

"So, I found out every vehicle in Reeka's arsenal is remotely linked to this server via a onboard hardwired droid. Aside from system maintenance, it appears they also receive instructions and report time logs whenever they reach security checkpoints."

Anger was replaced by curiosity as understanding came to the Arkanian.

"Go on..."

"Okay, so here's the good part. I tried uploading one of our spyware viruses into that server. You know, the ones we use to monitor enemy communications? Only this virus was altered to look like a high priority software update for the droids. And once the patch was downloaded, the virus over-wrote the droid's basic logic subroutines. At that point, I pretty much could tell them to do anything...like instruct them to report back their global coordinates back every five seconds."

"A feedback signal..." remarked the Arkanian.

Arctet nodded enthusiastically, sensing the other's approval

"Right! And better yet, it worked. We're receiving signals from eight different transports, the entire arsenal back at the fortress. Now, if one of those convoys starts moving, we'll know. If they punch in their destination coordinates, we'll know. Either way, it means we can track them without fear of being detected."

A grin was slowly appearing on the commander's face.

"This might actually work." T'shere remarked. Her hostile countenance was replaced with a thoughtful expression. In an uncharacteristically warm gesture, she put a hand on Arctet's shoulder and gave him a genuine smile.

"Good work. I guess Trickster will make a spy out of you after all."

The other men gave the youth approving sounds in congratulations. Kynes walked up to him and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.

"I'm proud of you Arctet. You really pulled through for us." She said, giving him the tiniest smile of her own.

Arctet turned beet red, and mumbled his thanks. T'shere turned back to the rest of her scouts.

"Okay, we'll get back to base and take it from there."

Kynes opened her mouth to object but the commander held up her hand.

"Unless you think you can do a full body workup without a medical lab, stop arguing. And reinforcements will be arriving shortly_._ If anybody can deal with this problem, it'll be _him_."

T'shere stressed the last word, casting a meaningful look at the sniper.

"We're going back."

Kynes didn't seem happy but nodded her assent. With that, the scouts returned to their seats, Arctet with a small bounce in his step.

* * *

Despite the setback then, the mood in the Mole was generally optimistic as it rumbled back to base. Sure, the objective to take weapon had failed, but their greater objective of tracking the Cult was a success. Or so they hoped. Victus and his brood had always been two steps ahead of them ever since their mission started. They could only hope the Sith had no contingency for Kynes and Arctet's resourcefulness.

Still, almost everyone had a sense of relief that they were at least gone from the Sith's awful presence and no one was killed.

Almost.

Revan was not decidedly not relieved he managed to escape with his life or happy with the progress Arctet had made.

In fact, it was quite safe to say he was furious.

Not the violent fury that threatened to erupt at any moment but a quiet simmering rage that he felt building up in the very core of his being that festered with every moment. If the rest of the team dared to look past his stony visage and into his eyes, they would have been scared shitless.

Ever since his escape, and after the miasma of confusion and turmoil had cleared from his mind, he had spent every moment reliving that horrible moment when Victus had given him a choice. Leave or die. He had chosen to leave, and it was a decision that filled him with a shame words could not even begin to describe.

_A Jedi would have fought. _He thought savagely. _He would have fought to the death trying to protect them._

He had failed in his oath as a Jedi the worst way possible. Letting innocent people die. In all his young life, he could not remember a single time he felt this angry.

Those poor slaves…Mysteel had urged him to save them and it was something he had been glad to do. They should have been freed and reunited with their loved ones.

Instead he had left them in the clutches of those savages. What they were enduring now was no doubt a thousand times worse than letting them be sold in the black markets.

He pictured them screaming, while their bodes were violated in ways that would make a normal Sith Lord sick. The imagery only made him feel worse.

Yes, he should have fought those bastards, dying in the line in duty. How could any Jedi do any less? At the very least, he wouldn't be alive when the Sith committed their atrocities on the females.

Revan could justify in a hundred different ways. He had sworn an oath to T'shere. He was hopelessly outmatched. He should live to fight another day, that sort of thing. But the simple truth was, Revan had taken the coward's way out. He had simply walked away to save his own hide. The thought shamed him more than any verbal ridicule could have. Revan clenched his fists so hard, blood was soaking into his gloves.

_If she was here, what would I say? How could I ever look her in the face again? _He thought bitterly.

_Maybe Vandar was right to strip me of my rank. _

He had once told Exon that the path to damnation started with small steps. It only took a few seemingly insignificant actions before one was willing to commit unbelievable atrocities to meet an objective. And he knew right then and there he had started on this path.

_Damnation. How did it come this? When did this become so hard?_

In times like this he would turn to the Masters for guidance. But now he didn't even have that. He was a lost wastrel, on a living purgatory. There could be no redemption for him here.

"No," Revan growled. If he started thinking like that, he would truly be damned. Atone, he needed to atone. But how?

Everyone looked back at the Jedi in surprise after hearing him growl the softly uttered syllable.

"Are you all right?" asked Mysteel in a worried voice looking at her partner in concern.

Even T'shere seemed sympathetic to his plight. She turned her attention at the Jedi for the first time since they boarded. T'shere gave him a tight smile.

"Look Revan…for what it's worth, you did all right down there."

T'shere was a little miffed that she had let the other man see her cry during the reunion but decided to overlook it.

"I don't know why Victus let you two go but whatever the case, my sister is safe."

She took a deep breath while stroking her sister's head and said.

"So I guess I just wanted to say…thanks."

Most of the scouts raised their eyebrows. Getting praise from their commander was almost as unlikely as finding a decent hooker on this planet.

"As far as I'm concerned, you kept your oath so I will keep mine. We'll get your weapon back. Victus won't get it off this planet. Once we're reinforced we'll track Victus back to his lair and-"

"_No"_

Everyone jumped at the force of the Jedi's voice. Tshere narrowed her eyes at the outburst.

"Excuse me?" she asked in a much more hostile tone.

"They will not be returning back to their base at all" said Revan in a deceptively calm voice. "Their lives are forfeit."

The other females looked at him like he was crazy. Kynes asked the obvious question.

"And how do you propose we are going to do that? We are outnumbered and outmatched in every possible way."

"An ambush." replied the Jedi immediately.

"Absolutely out of the question."

Tshere folded her arms under her breasts, adopting her best commanding tone.

"With our numbers, we might be able to take on those Abominations. Maybe even kill his lackeys that still have half a brain to share among them, but Victus is _Reborn._ He'll rip the skin off our hides and use it to wipe his ass without blinking an eye. Tell him sis."

She looked pointedly at Mysteel. She had stopped crying now but her eyes were still red. The Twi'lek sat up a little straighter and nodded reluctantly.

"Sorry Rev, but I'm with my sister on this one. You don't know Victus like we do. He's...he's just too...I mean things he's done..." Her voice trailed away like a scared child.

Kynes added her own objections.

"It's not just sheer skill difference. Say we launch an ambush while they're in transit. A pitched firefight would be dangerous. That Twi'lek at the auction said that the bioweapon is extremely volatile. If one stray shot pierces the containers, we'd be looking at an agonizing death. Probably for the entire city."

"That's why I'm going to do this alone."

"You have got to be joking," Tshere scoffed. "I knew you were arrogant Jedi. I didn't think you were stupid."

She gave him a challenging look.

"In any case, my answer is no."

"You have no say in this decision."

"_What_ did you say to me!"

Everyone in the compartment flinched instinctively, fearing the Arkanian's wrath. T'shere didn't disappoint as her face twisted in rage, her eyes becoming liquid mercury. She nudged Mysteel to one side before leaning out to grab the Jedi's robes.

"Don't think I care you're from the Order, you arrogant bastard." she hissed menacingly "As long as you're under my command, _I'm _the damn Grand Master."

"Unhand me."

Revan met T'shere's eyes for the first time and T'shere gasped as she receiving the fright of her life. T'shere had seen that look before on her Master's face. But only once. And it had scared her in a way that no torture could. It was a look of tightly chained fury mixed with iron determination. The thought unnerved her, comparing Revan to her old Master.

Hesitantly, she let go of the man's clothes and backed away.

"This partnership is at an end," said Revan coldly. Most of the scouts and T'shere looked at him incredulously. Mysteel seemed shocked but Kynes merely arched an eyebrow.

"Y-you're leaving?" said Mysteel in a pained voice. "Why?"

"Our agreement was for me to assist you in exchange for acquiring the weapon. As that is now impossible, our deal is null and void. I'm going to take them down alone."

His tone brooked no argument. Everyone looked uncomfortably at each other, unsure what to say. Mysteel tried to soothe the Jedi's ire.

"Look Revan, we're all angry right now. But that's no reason to start acting irrationally. Trying to ambush the Cult...well that's just sounds like something T'shere might try if she was shitfaced, and only if she's having her period."

She put on a smile hoping to diffuse the tension, but Revan was unmoved. Trying an alternate tactic, the Twi'lek looked imploringly at the taciturn sniper.

"A little help here?"

Kynes shrugged indifferently as if she didn't care, but in truth though the sniper didn't want the Jedi to leave and throw his life away either. At least not without some gain on their part. She tried to appeal to his sense of logic.

"Mysteel is right. This 'ambush' idea is absurd. You don't even know where they're going or what route they will be taking. True, if the droid has their destination, we could try extrapolating their path, but there's no guarantee."

"I know, the bridge we just crossed is the only way to cross back into the mainland. They have to use it" Said Revan tersely.

The sniper nodded reluctantly. "That's true…you're saying you want to ambush them there?"

His look was all the confirmation she needed.

"That's suicide," she stated flatly. "Not only will you be boxed in, you'll have no means of escape."

"Neither will they." He replied through clenched teeth.

Kynes sighed, realizing her words were falling on deaf ears. The Jedi would not be swayed by this course of action, no matter how suicidal it was. She turned back to T'shere. "Your turn."

The commander chewed on her lip momentarily, unsure of what to say. Of all the members of the team, she would be the most relieved to see the other man's backside. Still, even the Arkanian wasn't sadistic enough to want the Jedi dying a horrible death at the hands of _them. _In the end she decided to go for the direct approach.

"This isn't a pissing contest Revan," said Tshere flatly. "No one is going to give you points for dying heroically. Because that is what is going to happen. Victus will kill you. That's not a threat, it's simply a fact. You might think you're the best there is, but that's just so much crap. I've seen both of you fight and I _know_ Victus is better. For once in your wretched life, have the good sense to listen to someone else' advice."

The Jedi turned back to look at her coldly. "If I die so be it. But at least I can take comfort in doing my duty. Those slaves deserve better."

Tshere gave him a mocking sneer. "Oh, is that what Jedi call suicide these days? I'm glad I didn't stick around long enough for them to brainwash me with that drivel,"

Both of them glared at each other with undisguised hostility. Looking at the other man now, all Tshere saw were the qualities that she hated about the order in the first place. The arrogance, the misplaced confidence, the hubris.

"Let's cut to the chase. You're not doing this for the girls or because it's the 'right thing,' This is all about your ego."

This time, Mysteel gave T'shere chilly look.

"That's way out of line T'shere. I wanted to save the girls too."

T'shere ignored her sister's reproach and maintained her accusing glare at Revan.

"This is what it boils down to. You're the kind of guy that likes to be in control. But Victus took that away from you and took a dump on your carefully laid out plans. And now you can't handle it so, you're lashing out. Stupidly, without any chance at success."

She flicked a hand at him.

"You know what? I'm sick of trying to convince you of anything. You've been nothing but bad news ever since we met. Go. Have your heroic death if it means so damn much. We'll just pick up the pieces after you're done dying from your little tantrum."

If Revan was moved by her words he didn't show it. He turned to the man manning the vehicle.

"Stop the car," It sounded like half a threat.

The driver gave a worried glance at T'shere. She shrugged indifferently and gave an assenting nod.

The vehicle came to a lurching halt.

Revan swung the metal doors wide and started walking away. Mysteel made to get out and follow him but T'shere grabbed her arm.

"Let him go."

Mysteel turned back and gave her an exasperated look.

"You're not seriously going to let him do this are you?"

Tshere nodded.

"Why not? This is a win win for us. At worst he gets himself killed pointlessly. At best he manages to take down a few of the bastards. Either way, we'll be rid of him"

Mysteel's expression turned angry. She rarely spoke out against her older sister but she took a stand now.

"You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

The words stung more than T'shere could say. Mysteel shook free from the stunned Arkanian and hastily caught up to the Jedi. She grabbed his hand, forcing him to stop.

"Revan, this is crazy." she said emphatically. "And as much as I hate to agree with my bitchy sister, she's actually right about this."

She turned him around to face him and look into her sapphire blue eyes, still red from crying. They looked pleading.

"I feel bad for letting the girl die too, but there really wasn't anything we could have done. Only live to fight another day."

"That's how it starts."

Mysteel looked confused. "What starts?"

"The rot," said Revan emphatically. "Small steps corrupt. Today it was the slaves, tomorrow it will be a city and the next a whole planet."

Mysteel gave a nervous laugh, clearly thinking he was exaggerating.

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?" She asked tremulously.

"No, I don't," he replied solemnly. Revan looked down at his chest and breathed out a sigh, letting the pent up rage subside momentarily.

"I once told a friend that one must always stay grounded that they must reflect on their actions to see if they stay true to themselves. And I know now I did something terrible by leaving those slaves to that horrible fate. If I ignore this atrocity I will be a hypocrite. And I know now that in my heart of hearts I cannot let this stand. Those girls deserves better."

_Ailene deserved better too._ Revan added as an unspoken thought. The Jedi had always used others to achieve his own ends. But this tine, the collateral damage was too high. Ailene survived, and she was probably lucky. The slaves, not so much. He had to make amends. Maybe he could even save one or two of them, if they weren't eaten yet.

Mysteel tried a different tactic. Placing two hands on his shoulders, she asked.

"Look Rev, you're a guy likes figuring things out right? The right solution for every problem?

When Revan did not reply she continued.

"But what you're doing…it isn't a solution. All you're doing now is jumping off a cliff and hoping you can suddenly fly! If you try and fight Victus, you're going to get served...literally."

The Twi'lek smiled reassuringly at him and said in a soothing voice.

"Those girls won't die in vain. I promise. But we can't do it now. Let's regroup and think of a plan. You like plans don't you? If you promise to follow us back to base, I'll make sure the next plan is all yours. How does that sound?"

Revan stayed silent for many moments. Mysteel's face brightened, thinking she had managed to convince the Jedi until he spoke out.

"Remember that lesson you told me? About choice?"

Mysteel nodded uncertainly. "Yeah...?"

"Well this is my choice," continued the Jedi. "You said that I had the power to make a difference, that destiny is not a fixed construct. Well, I refuse to sit back and let this draw out to its pre-defined conclusion. What I do now determines not only what happens to my conscience, but to the future. Those despots _cannot_ have that weapon. We let them walk away and no amount of planning will help fix the damage they unleash. I have to do this."

Mysteel stamped her foot angrily like a petulant child.

"Dammit Revan! The one time you choose to listen to me and it wasn't even funny!

She gave him an exasperated look, tugging on his robes.

"You can think I'm exaggerating about Victus and his abilities, but that's no reason to stop thinking! You're going to throw your life away!"

"I'm a Jedi Knight," He replied tersely. "It's what we do,"

"But…but Victus said…"

Before she could continue, Revan shrugged her off and turned around. Without another word, he began trudging in the direction of the bridge. Mysteel started to follow him, but this time Kynes grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her head grimly.

"T'shere's right. We've got to look out for the team. And he isn't one of us. Let him go,"

Mysteel had rarely felt so torn in her life. She could only look helplessly as the Jedi disappeared into the horizon to meet certain death.

* * *

_Author's Note: I've put an image of T'shere on my rogermein1 (dot) deviantart (dot) com. It's supposed to be an image of her when she was posing as a waitress. Hopefully, it explains how she got her nickname =)._


	17. Chapter 17 No Mercy Part 1

_Mercy is for pussies. Who asks for it?_

_-T'shere_

_

* * *

_

It had been a close call.

When Victus' two unforeseen guests had left the auction hall, his minion's primal programming took over and they had set upon the prisoners with the fury and malice that was gene woven into the very fibre of their being. A few seconds more and the Twi'lek would have been swept up in the storm. Then Malleus' plans would have been entirely ruined.

Beyond acquiring the weapon, Victus was entrusted by Malleus to perform a field study of sorts, a harvest. It was a delicate operation and something no outsider should have been privy to. Their victims had screamed in horror, seeing only naked debauchery in their actions but what they did...it was more akin to a ritual than actual torment. A stringent ritual that disguised a vigorous screening process.

First, each subject was suspended in the air. The Abominations would peel their victim's outer shell with sharpened talons and razor sharp teeth and then separate it from the meaty core. It was almost like ripping off the plastic wrap from a new toy but it was done with an efficiency and speed that belied their ferocious nature. The skin was then taken by the aspirants and used to cover their transports.

To the untrained eye, one might think this was the result of a nonsensical primitive ritual. But it was much more than that. The desecration created a symbol of aversion, a blatant warning and threat to any other patrol who would think to challenge their progress. The very existence of these mutilations would ensure inspire terror and safe passage back to their lair.

When the skin had been neatly separated and folded away, the aspirant's began cutting off their prisoner's limbs with their light sabers. The process was slow and agonizing, ensuring the maximum amount of pain for the subject in question. It would continue until the prisoner was literally a limbless stump.

Some of the prisoner's died from the shock of the skinning process, others when their limbs were being cut off. But in the end, each prisoner received the same due process.

Victus observed the results of each 'ritual' with a clinical eye, while a tool he had called the _Occulus_ recorded the results. Those that registered the least amount of trauma within their bodies during this procedure were deemed to have the genome with the most potential. Their meat was set aside to be ferried away for consumption and other uses. Those that died almost instantly were worthless so their meat was burned and forgotten.

As he expected, the guards and mercenaries had shown a high tolerance to the pain threshold. Among the slaves, only the Cathar had registered any meaningful results during her process. All said and done though, they had recovered more viable vessels than rejects. Their flesh would go a long way in helping sustain the Cult.

When the deviants had finished their unholy works, they took their leavings, deactivated the defenses and left. Like locusts, they left the desecrated site, a bloody lifeless ruin.

As much as he enjoyed the experience, Victus had left the base with a sour mood. Reeka had not been present. More importantly, he had no idea why Malleus never mentioned the...intervention. Everything hinged on Mystell being alive if their revenge against Lucidae was to be complete. Events had always played out to the letter, and Victus always proceeded with utter confidence in his Master's instructions, but not today. It seemed like a tremendous oversight on his Master's part, one that needed to be discussed when he returned.

* * *

Ten minutes after leaving his erstwhile companions, Revan reached his destination.

The bridge was as he remembered it, a ramshackle piece of twisted iron, its suspensions creaking angrily on rusted hinges as it swayed precariously in the flensing wind. He allowed himself a cold smile.

Contrary to Kynes' and Mysteel's accusations, the Jedi was not going on the spur of the moment. Battles were won by thinking ahead, by always being two steps in front of the enemy. That meant controlling the terms of the engagement. His first Master had always stressed the importance of that.

_Cover. Misdirection. Surprise._ Those were the sacred words of their modus operandi.

Revan had chosen the bridge as his point of attack not simply because it was a bottleneck. To the normal observer, the bridge resembled a suspended junk yard in desperate need of repair. But to him, it was a prime spot for a gauntlet, with materials aplenty for setting up traps, cover and barricades. Also, this path had been largely abandoned so there was negligible chance of a civilian wandering by and causing collateral damage.

As he walked along the mile long structure, he took careful note of all of the vehicles, tires and metal scrap covering the ground. Flattened metal and garbage choked the roadway, but all the major obstructions like trucks and other transports had been pushed to either side of the bridge so vehicles could actually pass through. Revan also took stock of the huge crevices across the bridge, some which sunk alarmingly deep into the concrete. With proper preparation, he could make this place into a deathtrap. Scenarios and battle plans began to congeal in his mind as he visualized how his ambush could play out.

Still, time was against him. Victus and his lackey would eventually finish their ...'activities' and he needed to prepare quickly before the bastards grew tired of their blood sport. First and foremost though , he had to remind himself that this was a recovery mission. The Jedi would dispatch of the targets efficiently and retrieve the weapon. He even held out some hope that a few of the slaves might still be alive for him to save.

With that in mind, he decided on a course of action and began to prepare the battlefield to his liking.

Revan started by re-arranging huge chunks of discarded debris, dragging the larger vehicles from the side of the road. While it would have normally taken a dozen men to accomplish the task, the Jedi could will the objects into position. There was no formal pattern to his arrangement. He simply tossed the largest vehicles, broken supports and tires into the middle of the road, obstructing it as much as possible. Revan also took the time to rupture the fuel tanks from each vehicle, letting the volatile liquid slosh onto the floor in snaking rivulets.

For each of the huge pot holes, Revan placed an unpleasant surprise at the bottom, then piled tires, doors and whatever junk he could find to fill the void. He'd finished by covering the top with huge metals sheets to make the terrain more-or less passable.

When all the wreckage had been properly splayed across the battlefield, Revan took a piece of glass and sliced his hand to draw blood. He moved among the assorted vehicles and smeared a bit of his vitae onto the metal, marking it with his scent. T'shere had warned him about how the Cult were pre-naturally disposed to hunting wounded prey with their blood scent. Hopefully, with enough conflicting blood trails, it would be enough to give his enemies pause.

The Jedi took comfort in his this ritual, the routine as natural to him as breathing. It reminded him of the blood games in his youth, when he had nothing but wits and stealth to see him through. Revan remembered the elaborate traps not dissimilar to the one he set up now order to bring down a physically superior target. Whether it was Rancors, gigantic sandworms or other monstrosities, they had all been brought down in the end.

Victus and his cannibals, would be no different. They would be his prey.

The whole process took about an hour. When he was done, the entire bridge resembled a huge labyrinth of twisted, stinking metal. No vehicle could pass the through the bridge without moving the obstructions away. While there was a remote chance someone besides Victus might fall into his trap, Revan was willing to take that chance.

Satisfied with his arrangement, Revan decided it was time to track his quarry.

The Jedi looked at the supports poles on either side of the bridge, searching for a point that could provide height and obscurity. He chose a large one and climbed to the top using the side rails. The Jedi settled on a small perch, at the highest tip of the pole.

At this vantage point, he could see anything from a two kilometer radius. As he expected though, much of the radioactive fog limited his vision. To counteract this limitation, Revan produced a visor that he had inconspicuously swiped from Kynes' arsenal of scout equipment before he left the Mole. The tool helped him filter out the different spectrums of UV light, radiation and focus on heat signatures. His vision because a blue haze of numbers and geographical topography as it absorbed the landscape.

The Jedi became completely immobile as he settled down to wait, a poised blade ready to strike.

* * *

A quarter of an hour passed before the visor blinked red and indicated a potential '_threat'_ symbol. Targeting reticules told him that two major heat signatures were approaching to his position. As the image got larger, he saw the objects were actually two metal trucks, rumbling on the road.

_Victus_ he thought savagely, feeling his blood light up in anticipation. From his perspective, they looked like trucks.

_No…they might simply be a scavengers. Or maybe one of Reeka's patrols._

The Jedi zoomed in on the object of interest and blinked an eye to get his lens to focus.

As his enhanced targeting system picked out horrific details, Revan uttered a soft curse.

The trucks were definitely the patrol vehicles, but it was how they were decorated which left no doubt as to the identity of its passengers.

The transports had been redesigned into a hideous totem. An ultimate effigy of terror and condescending might.

The chassis had been draped with skins of flesh, hideous banners flapping restlessly on other sides of the transport. Humanoid heads were spitted on sharp metal poles, jutting out from the metal frames like some bizzare fetishes. One of them was the Wookie the Abominations mutilated not so long ago. The others, he recognized as the slaves, their mouths twisted in eternal expressions of torment.

Any hope Revan held out for saving the remaining girls died then, along with any notions of taking prisoners. He felt his vision cloud in a haze of red hate.

_I will kill them. _he swore silently _Today,_ _I will mutilate every one of these deviants,._

Revan felt a savage pleasure at the thought.

He would kill them and he would desecrate their corpses so even carrion wouldn't want to touch it. What had started out as a possible rescue mission would now degenerate into a slaughter. That hate tarnished his quest for justice and turned it into retribution, a base and unhealthy emotion. Distantly, the Jedi knew it was wrong to indulge in his own hatred but he quelled the thought away.

_I don't care if I soil myself in their blood. As long as its their blood I spill._

As if in response to that thought, an image flitted into vision and his anger dimmed. Revan blinked. It was her again, the girl. She always appeared to him whenever he felt his hatred rise, a soothing balm for the pain in his soul. After all these years apart, he could recall her face with complete clarity.

The female was perfect in every sense of the word, her tender expression one of infinite sorrow and regret. In another life he thought he lived, she had saved him from damnation, by steering him from a dark path not dissimilar to the one he was on now. The girl had always been his constant. A fount of purity where only corruption dwelled. And of all people, she would have begged him to be merciful, even in the face of such evil.

_We're in this together right?_

Revan shook his head, dismissing the image.

_Go away. You're not real. You can't be…_

He focused back on the matter at hand, to the matter of killing. For these monsters, there could be no mercy. Only the most horrific death.

Wordlessly, he dropped from his perch and onto the ground once more. The Jedi drew his lightsaber and ignited the blade. He placed the tip on the ground, torching the oil that had soaked into the granite floor earlier.

Flaming tendrils erupted on the road. They slithered and encircled the rough terrain, latching onto metal and rock alike. Within moments, the entire bridge was bathed in flame, a hellish gauntlet surrounded in a choking haze.

It was a beacon for everybody within ten kilometers radius, a blatant challenge that no words could convey. Every spectator could see the spectacle, a fiery torch that echoed the rage within Revan's soul.

Grimly, the Jedi disappeared into the gloom. It was time to hunt.

* * *

The vehicle came to a sudden halt. The aspirants looked up in annoyance.

"Why did you stop you worthless tool?" one of them growled at the pilot.

"Caution. Obstruction ahead" replied the droid in its monotonic voice, utterly unconcerned with the threat in the aspirant's voice. Victus peered through the front viewport and what he saw thrilled him.

They were at the entrance to mile long suspended bridge. Except now, the bridge resembled a flaming cesspool. Vehicles, fallen beams and other junk had been forcefully shuffled together, like a forest of metal. The obstructions were too close together for the convoys to move through. Tendrils of fire snaked out from the top of the barricades, making the passage look like some smoking slice from the abyss.

Someone or something had obviously taken the time to bar their path so they would be forced to cross by foot or take the time to remove the blockage.

At this point, the aspirants were trying to restrain the Abominations who were howling and pawing the ground restlessly with their claws.

"Someone's here" said the Weeper, noticing their behaviour. Only blood ever got them so riled up.

The Sith Lord took a deep waft of air then, sampling its texture.

"Only one." mused Victus. "_Him_,"

The other aspirants growled with mounting anger. None of them had the heightened senses of the Reborn, but with their emphatic link, they could immediately discern who their leader was thinking about.

"The dead one. The corpse thing." rasped one of the aspirants.

"I smell him too. He is here, waiting for us," echoed another.

The Sith Lord knew there would be a reckoning. He just didn't think it would be so soon. But then again, he had seen the other man's parting gaze so maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. The Jedi's eyes had been full of promise, brimming with simmering hate. It was a look Victus had seen far too many times.

And now, the pathetic mongrel actually believed he could enact revenge for the slight inflicted upon him.

_Come hunt me_. The carnage in front them practically screamed the words. It was as brazen a challenge as the Sith Lord had ever seen, a crass invitation for them to pit their wits in a flaming hunting arena. The thought amused Victus to no end so he laughed.

His aspirants were less amused.

"We should have never let him go Weeper," hissed one of his subordinates. "He disrupted the path. Almost destroyed it. We should have taken his flesh!"

Others snarled their agreement.

Victus didn't immediately reply. He was sure his threat against the Twi'lek had been enough to make his former prisoners and their allies scuttle back into their holes. But surprisingly, it seemed the Jedi had remained. And he was angry, Victus could sense that clearly. Almost as angry as his own aspirants constantly were.

The Weeper considered the choices at this point. Victus had wanted to add him to the collection for further study but that hadn't been an option with Mysteel in the vicinity.

But with the Twi'lek out of the picture now, he could pursue his original intent. Revan was different than other humans and Victus was determined to see how his physiology could benefit their continued cause.

He briefly entertained the idea of meeting the challenge head on, but he also realized his aspirants hunger had been re-kindled. The raw hatred they had for anybody from the Order was genetically bred into their bones, much like themselves. The effort to constantly maintain control over his subordinates was taxing and in truth, he did not think he could forcibly restrain them from trying to kill the hated foe much longer. Like dogs of war, they had to be unleashed, less their anger threatened to overcome him. And in truth, letting his minions pit their wits against the Jedi would be an interesting way to gauge his abilities.

_Yes_, he thought. _It would be interesting to see what kind of stock the Order was capable of producing the days._

With his decision made, the Weeper turned back to his subordinates.

"It seems like the corpse-thing wants to be play."

He gave all his followers a meaningful look.

"Oblige him,"

His subordinates grinned hideously at the command and kicked open the hatch doors. Gathering into their respective hunting packs, the aspirants entered the flaming gauntlet with fervent anticipation.

* * *

The air was choked in ash and brimestone, the smell of twisted iron almost unbearable. Visibility on the bridge was almost non existent right now, the cloying smoke covering the entire structure in a shadowy veil.

The first group to venture into this deathtrap consisted of a pair of aspirants. These two were the youngest of Victus' inductees and therefore the least cautious of their pack.

Others had taken the time to get their prey's scent and allow their lesser brethren to guide them to their target. With their sense of smell, the Abominations could normally navigate the most complex labyrinth and still find their quarry. Yet the monsters seemed unusually confused, pawing aimlessly in different directions instead of making confident strides.

Impatient with the progress, both aspirants eschewed their comrade's protests and took a more direct approach. They left their lesser kin to sniff at every nook and cranny, striding deep into the mouth of the beast.

One of them had leapt on top of an upturned truck to get a better view but all he saw was smoke and hazy objects. Visibility was even worse at higher altitudes, so the aspirants kept the hunt on the ground. The pair quickly navigated through the narrow confines, letting touch and smell spur their progress. They briefly discussed forcefully removing the flaming obstacles, but that would have taken too long and both one of them wanted to make the kill.

Besides there was a certain thrill in hunting within such an elaborate setup, testing their own skills against the enemy's.

Eventually, a particularly strong blood stench led the aspirants to a clearing with a huge collapsed beam at the centre of the road, also ignited in flame. The warriors peered at the smoking structure warily, sniffing all the while. The support had collapsed recently, torn from its hinges. There was also a fair amount of blood smeared on it, streaked in haphazard and violent movements.

"The scent is strongest here. But where is he?" mused one of the aspirants in a panting voice.

While he inspected the blood, the other aspirant, (formerly a woman before her transformation) circled the huge broken pole. She sniffed at the wreckage around the pole like a hound, hoping to get a fresh scent.

The wretch was so focused on her task, she didn't see a shadow detach as she passed by a ruined car.

It came from behind, wordlessly and soundlessly. She was only aware of the threat when a sharp pain blossomed at the back of her legs, forcing her to kneel. Instinctively, she tried to cry out a warning, but all that came out was a muffled noise as a gloved hand clamped onto her mouth.

"_Hmmmphh_!

The aspirant's airways clogged and suddenly, she couldn't breathe. Frantically, she reached for her lightsaber, but the attacker's other arm slithered out and ripped it out from her grip. The same hand came up around her neck into a chokehold, tightening inexhorbantly.

Like a cornered animal, she thrashed. The aspirant elbowed her tormentor and tried to claw at the face but to little effect. Black dots started to swarm her vision as she knew she was on the verge of suffocating to death. The female's eyes bulged in fear, renewing her efforts tenfold to escape the agonizing fate.

Then suddenly, adrenaline surged through her veins as her gene enhanced metabolism injected stimulants into her bloodstream to combat the threat of death. With inhuman strength, she lifted her attacker off the ground. Instinctively, she threw herself backwards and was rewarded with the satisfying crunch of flesh on metal.

The aspirant grinned wickedly as the stranglehold loosened but choked in surprise as a molten lance of energy erupted through her right breast, bursting through her lung. Even as she registered the horrendous wound, her lifeblood came rushing up to clog her airways and mouth.

The attacker twisted the blade savagely and the woman's thrashing diminished abruptly as she began to literally drown in her own mucus. The aspirant gagged then, trying to suck in pockets of air that could never come. Finally, she tried to cry out in denial but all that gave out was a thin reed of air.

Mercifully or perhaps tiring of the sport, Revan twisted her neck savagely to one side, snapping the bone.

His victim collapsed in a lifeless heap.

* * *

The second aspirant sensed his comrade's death instantly and reacted by, igniting his own weapon in response. The warrior cursed, realizing he had been too distracted by blood to be aware her partner had wandered off. He whirled his head around the cloying haze but found no sign of the attacker. In truth he couldn't see anything beyond his own hands and lightsaber. With effort, the aspirant quelled his mounting rage and forced himself to focus, letting his heightened awareness guide him to the enemy.

For many seconds, the only sound was his own heartbeat, rattling in sync with his foul breath.

Then suddenly, from the corner of his eye, something moved with menacing intent. Before he could even bring his weapon to bear, a heavy mass of flesh crashed into him head on. The aspirant instinctively gored the attacker with his weapon and the lump of meat grew slack. Thinking he had made a quick kill, the aspirant grinned only to find he had just filleted his own partner. The female had been dead already but she still stared at him with accusing eyes.

Snarling blistering curses, the aspirant shoved the fresh corpse off, only to see a new shadow descended upon him. A bright blue blade came flashing down for his head like a whip and the target barely managed to block the trajectory of the vicious strike with his own weapon. A fountain of sparks flew as the two lightsabers met and became gridlocked.

The aspirant came face to face with his prey, the air between them filled with thickly charged ozone. Through the pale red and blue light, he saw the face of his attacker. It was nothing human, a pale mask twisted with murderous intent. The aspirant felt his own pulse rise in anticipation of the kill.

"Corpse thing..." he hissed at the hazy form. "Your skin will decorate our-,"

Before he could finish, the newcomer lashed out with his metal studded foot with frightening speed. A pistol loud crack echoed in the air as the attack shattered the aspirant's kneecap and bent his joint back the wrong way. The aspirant fell onto his back, grunting in pain.

He tried to raise his weapon, but Revan swept the pathetic weapon away and stabbed the offending hand down with his own brightly glowing lance, searing through flesh and bone alike.

Fresh hot agony coursed through his arm as the monster's hand was forcefully pinned to the floor by the hilt of the blue lightsaber. The brute tried to scream out for help but the other man punched him in the throat and crushed his larynx. His curses became ragged choking sounds.

"Wh-What are you?" the aspirant tried to gurgle between pained gasps.

Revan did not deign to answer him. Instead he circled behind his victim and pulled him up by the few lanky strands of hair left on his palsied scalp. With the neck exposed, the Jedi sliced a serrated glass edge deep into the corrupted flesh, drawing a crimson smile on the aspirant's jugular. Black-red liquid sprayed freely as Revan sawed through the meat and into the arteries.

The aspirant gurgled as he choked on his own spurting fluids. Desperately, he tried to claw at the throat and clamp down the wound but Revan batted the hand away. The Jedi tilted the monster's head down so the aspirant could see his own blood come gushing onto the floor, even as he was helpless to stop it.

After a few seconds, the gasps became gurgles and the thrashing became twitches as the aspirant bled like a butchered Bantha. When Revan was sure his victim was about to die, he yanked the head back and whispered into the monster's ear.

"As your body fails and the horror of blackness settles upon you. I want you to know one thing."

The aspirant could only gurgle incoherently as Revan whispered three words into his ear.

"I. Hate. You."

When he finished speaking, the aspirant's eyes lolled into the back of his head and the fiend finally died.

Without another word, Revan dragged the corpse away.

* * *

The next nearest war band, a group of five, had made it deeper into the gauntlet as well but moved with more caution. Unlike, the other two fools, these aspirants had been tempered by the experience and understood restraint. Aspirants had to learn to control their blood lusts, otherwise they would succumb to the beast within like the Abominations. As Victus always said, it took a phenomenal amount of discipline to be so deadly.

They were making their Abominations search a ruptured vehicle when the beasts snapped their heads in a westerly direction. They started howling and pawing the ground, driven wild by the smell of kindred blood. The Aspirants could smell it too.

"The dead one...he cut their threads," one stated flatly, raising a hand.

"Stay silent. Let me hear his footfalls."

His command fell on deaf ears though as the Abominations shrieked continuously, making any attempt to divine other sounds useless.

"Enough of this," snarled one of his companions suddenly. Despite his comrade's protests, he flung the ruined landspeeder in front of them into the air. It flew like a pathetic toy into another pile of garbage with a ear splitting bang. The aspirant repeated this with all the other annoying obstructions barring their path. The cacophony of noise was enough to wake the dead. Their hounds snarled, partly in anger and in ecstasy, the horrid noises stimulating the warped parts of their brain. The aggressor only stopped when the path beyond relatively clear.

"Next time, throw yourself off the bridge and save us the trouble," growled one of the other aspirants when he was finished.

Ignoring his comrade's glares, the offender strode brazenly through the wreckage and into the source of the carnage. The Abominations followed eagerly, the other aspirants less so. They walked through a maze of metal until they saw the blood.

Lots of blood. More than they had seen spilled in one location.

The entire ground had become saturated with their comrade's ichorous black fluid. It was smeared in garish patterns on the ground like tribal warpaint. Huge pools of it congealed in tiny potholes, thick tarpits of poison. Someone had literally wrenched their comrades dry. But despite the prodigious amount of liquid spilled, they could see no bodies.

The Abominations bounded towards the largest of these and started drinking. While the animals were busy, the Sith looked around the smoky haze.

"I can't see a thing. Where are their corpses?" one of them growled. The others didn't answer. They were both staring at something on the floor.

It was one of the aspirant's hands, severed at the joint.

"a lightsaber did this," noted the first warrior, seeing the burn marks characteristics on the severed limb.

"What was your first clue?" growled the second aspirant.

"That's not what I meant!" retorted the other. "Why would he leave the hand and nothing else?"

"Isn't it obvious? He mocks us!" Snarled the last warrior, spitting at the ruined limb. The fingers in the severed appendage were curled to point further away, in the opposite direction they came

"Say it louder you witless child," hissed the most cautious of the three. "I don't think everyone heard you yet,"

The pair cursed at each other for fools while the first warrior commanded an Abomination to find the rest of the body. Obediently, one of the monsters pawed forward, sniffing. The aspirant followed, albeit more cautiously this time, wary of the thick curtain of blackness surrounding them.

The creature dug its nose at different burning vehicles, trying to find where the scent was strongest. Eventually he stopped at a large grey rigger that was still upright. The abomination began clawing at the door, trying to get into the vehicle. All the windows had been smeared in blood as well, making it impossible to see within.

With careful steps, his handler approached the transport, his lightsaber at the ready. Grabbing the animal by the scruff of its neck, he pulled him aside and broke the window, wondering what the fiend found so interesting inside. The Aspirant realized what it was.

The rest of the handless victim was stuffed into the driver's seat, his eyes rolled into his sockets, the throat a gaping ruin. But that wasn't what drew his attention. The corpse's mouth had something stuffed into it, something metallic.

As he leaned in, it started to blink rapidly. The Aspirant eyes widened.

"Shi-" he started to say as the thermo detonator went off, immolating him and the entire vehicle in a huge ball of flame.

The remaining pair of aspirants were thrown off their feet from the concussive force, crashing near a pile of upturned transports. Dazed, they turned their heads to see their former comrades screaming in agony, as the flames rapidly consumed their shriveled bodies. They thrashed on the ground for a few seconds before their bodies disintegrated into ash.

Gingerly the surviving warriors got up to their feet, staring at the resulting destruction with dumbstruck expressions. They were so mesmerized by the carnage that they didn't have time to comprehend the source of the deaths.

From above the ruined truck they crashed under, Revan leapt, diving on top of the nearest Aspirant like a bird of prey. His lightsaber lead his descent, impaling the wretch between the shoulder blades, brutally culling the monster through his back.

Revan's victim collapsed leadenly onto the floor with him on top.

To his credit, the remaining warrior reacted with prenatural speed, slicing with his weapon at the source of movement. The Jedi got up quickly, pulling his weapon free just in time to deflect a downward strike that would have split his skull. The remaining aspirant cursed him in his foul tongue, pressing the Jedi with a series of scything cuts.

Revan parried quickly, deflecting each attack wide of his body. The aspirant then lead with a daring thrust, which the Jedi blocked with a spinning parry, throwing the sword out wide. The Jedi used the force of the momentum to pirouette a full three hundred and sixty degrees, and plunge his flashing blade into the aspirant's neck.

A gaping wound opened where the Aspirant's throat used to be and the warrior staggered back reeling from the wound.

Revan relaxed fractionally, thinking his opponent would collapse from the deathblow. Miraculously, the aspirant actually _lunged _at the surprised Jedi with his lightsaber. Revan dodged desperately to the side, but the blood red blade still grazed the front of his cloak, burning through to his skin.

The Jedi yelled in pain and countered the aspirant's brutal attack by lopping his sword hand off with a slash of his lightsaber. The gruesome appendage dropped into the ground with a dull thump, along with his weapon.

Even literally disarmed, the aspirant didn't recoil, his bloodlust spurring his crippled body to extraordinary feats of endurance. With murder in his eyes, he clawed at the Jedi, snarling soundless threats even as the Jedi's swiped his lightsaber and took off his other arm.

The warrior didn't even register the loss. He just kept attacking with raw hatred, beating his burning stumps against his killer's body even as the lightsaber pierced his flesh again and again in a dozen sharp jabs.

With a growl of disgust, Revan ended his opponent's attacks with a brutal backhand swipe, severing the head as the aspirant made one more charge. His headless body collided bodily with the Jedi, knocking him to the floor.

For a horrible moment Revan thought he was pinned down, but he realized the aspirant was truly dead as his superhuman physiology succumbed to its loss of a central nervous system.

Coughing at the smell, Revan shoved his latest kill off him. He rose splattered in dark gore, grimacing in pain.

A pain wracked howl alerted him to the latest danger.

Spinning around quickly, he saw the last surviving abomination leap in a suicidal charge, his snarling mouth showing a forest of distended teeth.

Instinctively Revan dropped his lightsaber and grabbed the leaping monster in mid air, throwing his hip out as a fulcrum. Using the attacker's momentum against him, the Jedi slammed the attacker straight into the floor with a savage crack.

The Abomination grew still.

As Revan backed away thinking the danger over, the creature suddenly surged from the ground like a screaming banshee. It knocked his weapon away and slammed the Jedi into the ground with frightening strength. Wrestling itself on top, the Abomination began tearing the Jedi clothes into ribbons with black talons, trying to dig deep into his abdomen and rip out his intestines.

Revan desperately grappled the monster's claws with his own hands, fending off the killing blow. Blindly, he fumbled with one hand to reach for anything to counter the attack with.

His fingers brushed onto something sharp, a piece of twisted metal from the explosion.

The Abomination keened with insane fury then before plunging his jaws onto the Jedi's shoulder. Revan yelled as fresh agony coursed through his shoulder. He forced himself to block out the pain and plunged his grasping hand into the Abomination's head. The jagged piece of scrap metal he held pierced through bone and into the fleshy meat of the monster's shriveled brain.

There was a sharp crack as blood and brain matter jetted out through the new cavity. The Abomination died with a expression of hated twisting it's features.

Revan collapsed, letting the corpse twitch spasmodically on the floor before pushing himself off into the side. He was breathing heavily, truly wounded. Gingerly, he touched the side of his robes where the aspirant landed a scathing cut. The wound had seared shut from the superheated energy, but it was still causing him severe pain. More seriously however were the deep gouges on his left shoulder. The Abomination had torn through muscle and sinew with the attack and the entire left side of his body felt sluggish.

The Jedi fumbled for the medical pouch on his belt, but renewed cries of hate and surprise told him he was not out of danger yet.

With a grunt of pain, he got up and staggered to his first victim. The Aspirant had been cored through the chest, but an uneven wheezing indicated the fiend was still alive. The attack had gone wide from the heart as Revan had wanted. The Jedi grasped the wretch by the scruff of the neck and dragged him deeper into his gauntlet.


	18. Chapter 18 No Mercy Part 2

_You don't want to know._

_-Victus_

* * *

The Jedi heaved his burden for another hundred meters until he crossed a section of the bridge he had left relatively uncluttered. The road was particularly uneven here and structurally unstable from years of erosion and tectonic shifts.

When Revan was satisfied with his position, he kneeled down to the dying warrior and whispered in a low voice.

"Scream."

Either the aspirant didn't understand him or he thought the notion was an insult. His response was to spit a glob of black phlegm into the other man's face. Revan responded by methodically sawing his red hot sword deep into his victim's knee. He let the weapon slide with exquisite slowness, parting the flesh like a hot knife through butter.

The warrior did scream then, a high pitched wail that went on and on. It shook the ground and pierced the air in an unending note of torment.

Revan ignored the cries and continued with his butchery.

* * *

The noise did not go unnoticed.

Every remaining Aspirants whipped their heads at the source of the din, recognizing it as a beacon to their prey. The monsters threw all caution into the wind, the screaming pitch stimulating their warped minds and making them charge with abandon. They leapt over barricades and lurched towards the source of the din, led by their slavering hounds.

As they drew near, the screaming cut off as abruptly as it started, like a comm. channel being severed.

The aspirants and their Abominations approached more cautiously then, wary. Their heartbeats echoed in a staccato rhythm as their heightened senses strained to pick up any sign of their comrade beyond the shadowy gloom.

Suddenly, a blue bladed beacon shined and the smoke parted like a shadowy curtain to reveal their quarry.

Revan stood a hundred meters in front of them, lightsaber in one hand. In his other, he held the Aspirant by the lanky strands of hair remaining on his skull. Or what was left of him.

The aspirant's hands and legs had been cut off, brutally hacked away to end in burning stumps. They could also see why the aspirant had stopped screaming. Revan had taken the other man's jaw from his face, ending a burning morass of seared flesh.

The Jedi held his foe forward like a gruesome totem of challenge.

"Mongrel whore!" cursed one of the aspirants. "I'll take the skin off your head and use it for my loincloth!"

He moved to attack, but one of his comrades grabbed him by the scuff of his neck.

"Use that ugly thing between your ears for once!" the other man hissed. "He has decimated half of our numbers, through some cowardly means he plans to use now."

The aspirants glowered but did not charge. Instead they glanced warily around them, trying to pinpoint where an unforeseen attack could happen.

Seeing that his victims needed more persuasion, Revan drew his lightsaber back with exaggerated carefulness, the tip aimed skyward. Without warning, he brought the blade forward and sliced through the Aspirant's neck, execution style.

The head came free with a hiss while the body fell to the floor with a wet squelching sound. When it did, Revan kicked the ruined skull at his enemies in the most blatant form of disrespect possible.

That finally put the monsters over the edge.

Trap or not, the Abominations started their keening scream again, driven insane by the sight and smell of blood. Clawing away from their handler's grasps, the monsters crouched on all fours and bolted. The remaining aspirants hurled obscenities at their animals and moved to follow, despite the protests of the original warrior.

They swarmed the distance like a black tide of death, heedless of their own safety. Many men would have been unhinged at the specter of the oncoming horde. Even a charging Rancor wouldn't have been less unnerving than these slavering brutes. Still, there was no coordination in their movements, just the pulsating urge in their mind to rip their prey into shreds. Without Victus' guiding hand to synchronize their actions, the Abominations and Aspirants became a chaotic, unthinking force.

The Jedi did not budge from his spot. But as the rampaging monsters came closer, his left hand snaked onto the side of his belt. He waited a few more heartbeats before taking out a cartridge and uncorking the stopper.

When the warband crossed the threshold_, _Revan clicked the trigger.

A great plume of flame and smoke erupted thirty meters into the air. The sound was deafening, like a leviathan emerging from the depths of hell. His enemies disappeared momentarily as they were all engulfed within the roaring fireball, caused by the cluster of thermo detonators planted under the debris they stepped on.

Rock, metal and body parts whipped in all directions as the force of the explosion caused the entire bridge to groan in protest. The metal hinges creaked precariously at the abuse but did not snap.

When the massive explosion subsided, a massive hole was torn where the road used to be, leading into the murky depths below. The survivors staggered to their feet, coughing blood and dirt. Frantically, they tried to catch sight of their quarry, but Revan was nowhere to be seen. A huge mushroom cloud from the massive fallout had blossomed into the air, obscuring the battlefield in an oppressive grey mist.

One thing was clear to them though. Of the eight marauders that charged, only three of them remained.

One of Aspirants had crashed against the bridge rails. Clutching at the metal bars, he tried to shout a command to the survivors to form up and consolidate. However, a gush of wind from behind told the Aspirant that his tormentor was already upon him. He whirled with savage fury to face his adversary. Revan's lightsaber glowed with deadly promise.

"Bastard son of a Rancor," snarled the foul monster in his hissing tongue before the wraithe-like figure charged him with seemingly reckless abandon. The aspirant launched a backhand swipe, attempting to decapitate the attacker while he made his suicidal charge.

Revan ducked and went to one knee, the blade whistling millimeters from his head. He surged up from his prone stance and gored the aspirant in a violent upward thrust.

The aspirant could only choke in disbelief as Revan tackled him by the waist and twisted his death sentence tight into his chest. Using his momentum, the Jedi lifted his impaled victim bodily off the ground and threw him off the side of the bridge.

The aspirant's diminishing howls could be heard as he plummeted to his death.

Then there were two.

Revan barely had time to turn around when two blurry figures descended upon him, weapons flashing. The aspirants attacked in unison, one swiping high while the other slashed low.

The Jedi drew a series of figure eights in the air, blocking the initial onslaught of slashes and trying to create distance from the two.

However his opponents paced him every step of the way. One of the aspirants held a dual pair of lightsabers and he attacked Revan straight on with a crimson storm of strikes.

The Jedi attempted to block an oncoming downward slash only for the warrior to suddenly pull back and bring a brutal uppercut to his face with his other blade. Revan shifted his head at the last second, the blood red sheen singing his cheek as it _whooshed_ by.

The aspirant's blades winked angrily in the mist as the blurry form shuffled his feet. Revan thought this meant his opponent was going to bring his offhand to follow through, so he adjusted his guard accordingly.

Instead, the same sword that singed his skin came screaming in a backhand swipe. The Jedi dodged but still got cut on the shoulder, the sword leaving a smoking ruin on his already tattered cloak and causing a grunt of pain from the Jedi. The aspirant came on unrelenting, refusing to give up his advantage.

Revan parried each strike in a increasingly fast staccato of flashing lights, but he was finding it hard to anticipate the trajectory of the next attack. There was no pattern in his opponent's moves, no rhythm. Some attacks came seemingly at low angles only to twist into brutal up thrusts at the last second. And while they were all within this thick coat of ash, their footwork was almost impossible to see. The Jedi could only judge his own attacks by gauging where the blood red lightsabers went.

If Revan knew the truth though, these warriors were not fighting randomly, but with frighteningly heightened sense of awareness. Their enhanced genome allowed the monsters to follow the trajectory of the blue blade with uncanny accuracy. This allowed them to compensate and twist their strikes away at the last nanosecond for a vicious counter.

Even worse, the second aspirant had managed to flank him. He stabbed at Revan's back like a coiled serpent, forcing the Jedi to occasionally disrupt his own flow by twisting aside or batting the lightsaber away with a sweeping parry.

The Jedi was on his heels then, weaving desperately in and out from the onslaught of blades, focusing every movement to surviving for the next millisecond. But even as he kept up the frantic pace, Revan wondered why a lethal strike hadn't landed yet. Many of their attacks could have easily pierced through his chest or torso, but they always seemed to veer slightly off the mark.

Within his battle haze, the Jedi forced himself to think, to try and draw significance in that revelation. What did it mean? The aspirants were incredibly effective in breaking through his guard, but when it came to actually following through…

Then Revan understood. Like him, they couldn't _see_ their target properly. They were gauging their attacks based on the light emanating from his lightsaber. The rest of his body was just a dull haze to them, the smoke from the fallout and his cloak had effectively cloaked the Jedi in the same miasma of obfuscation.

An idea came to the Jedi even as he somersaulted away from a blow away that would have run him through his bowels. He began to parry one-handed, ducking and interweaving through the gauntlet of attacks, a precarious ballet of balance and timing. His other hand began unclasping the front of his cloak. When the garment came undone, Revan executed a roundhouse kick maneuver. His back foot came lashing back to knock the enemy in behind him in the stomach, temporarily stunning him. At the same time his brutal sweeping uppercut forced the other aspirant to dodge back.

The daring attack had won him a heartbeat's respite as the two aspirants recovered their footing.

"You're outmatched corpse-thing," lisped his forward opponent in a panting breath.

"Maybe," said Revan. "But you are dead,"

And when the aspirants charged at the challenge, Revan threw his lightsaber.

To the aspirant in front, it looked like the blade was coming at him as a downward swipe. He batted the weapon with a slashing counter and went straight at the blurry form billowing in the air.

The second had seen his enemy's lightsaber tossed away and assumed his target was now weaponless. He had leaped with his weapon, meaning to gore his defenceless opponent.

The first warrior snarled in glee as he felt saw his lightsaber bite into the hazy outline. He hacked savagely at the Jedi's cloak and reducing it to burning ribbons.

It was only after the dozenth strike that he realized it was just that. A cloak.

Before he could process this unpleasant surprise, a hideous red blade ripped through the tattered cloak. The aspirant could only stare wide eyed as it punctured deep into his skull.

The aspirant flanking the Jedi felt his weapon make contact with his prey and he exulted. But to his unpleasant surprise and anger, the man he just impaled was not the Jedi, but the other aspirant.

Cursing in confusion and rage, the remaining warrior pulled his weapon back and kicked the fresh corpse away. He didn't have time to turn as the real enemy kicked him from the side, blowing the wind from his lungs.

Before the final opponent could recover, the Jedi tackled the aspirant by the waist, hoping to throw him off the bridge much like his first victim. The remaining opponent was much heavier set though and he dug his feet in stubbornly, neutralizing the Jedi's momentum.

Snarling in rage, he prepared to swipe the Jedi's head off with his lightsaber. Revan managed to catch the descending blow with his left hand, the executioner's blade stopping inches from his neck. In response, the aspirant kneed him in the stomach, doubling him over. Still, the Jedi clung onto the weapon stubbornly, like a Wookie clinging to a haunch of Bantha meat in order to prevent the deathblow.

The aspirant changed tactics. He landed strike after savage strike on the Jedi's face, splitting his skin into shred. Blood splattered on the ground, as the Aspirant literally ripped his victim's face open.

Revan felt the tears and his eyes swelling. He knew he couldn't withstand much more abuse and needed to make a quick kill. Desperately, his other hand joined the first and gained purchase on the aspirant's lightsaber. He twisted savagely, wrenching the weapon away from the other man's grasp.

Before he could turn the weapon back on his opponent, the aspirant's clawed hand lashed forward and raked the wound where the Abomination had bitten him earlier. The Jedi howled in agony as the entire right side of his body erupting in pain. The weapon fell to the floor with a clatter.

Fighting through the miasma of agony shooting through his shoulder, Revan wrapped both of his hands on the other's palm. With a savage jerk, he twisted the aspirant's fingers the wrong way, snapping all four digits.

The aspirant screamed as well, trying to recoil but, Revan was relentless. Growling, he hooked the warrior's leg and forced the aspirant onto the ground. One of the monster's hands was useless, but his other clawed at the Jedi's face with frenzied abandon, gauging fresh red worms into the other man's skin.

Revan hardly felt it, his own anger making the damage seem like a distant thing as he wrestled himself on top of his injured opponent. The aspirant's face was locked into a rictus of pain and fear, but all Revan saw in front of him was a freak, a deviant who took pleasure in inflicting horrors on defenseless victims.

An ugly welter of emotion began to boil in the very coil of his body. His blood pumped furiously in his head, enhancing his hate for the wretch to new levels.

_How dare you, how dare you defy me by living._

Channeling the cold fury, the Jedi snaked both hands onto the aspirant's bird like neck. Revan could have snapped it with a twist, but that would have been too easy. He wanted to feel this kill, to savour the moment he extinguished the other man's life force. Revan began slamming the skull onto the cold granite floor, determined to crush the monster's skull open like a raw egg.

The aspirant gurgled mindlessly as he stabbed his dirty black claws into the Jedi's eyes. Blood filled both of his orbs and hot agony coursed through his face but he ignored it, focusing only on pounding the head again and again on the floor. He heard cracking noises on the first few strikes as the bone began to give, even as his face was being torn to ribbons by his desperate victim's clawed hand.

After a few more seconds he felt the cranium split open, and the hard cracks were replaced with wet squelching noises. The apsirant's clawing began to diminish.

Revan didn't stop. He kept slamming again and again, heedless of the fact that the aspirant could no longer defend itself. Black ooze began to leak out the aspirant's ears even as bits of brain matter clotted the ground.

After the thirtieth slam, the aspirant stopped struggling, his hand falling limply to the side as his brains literally painted the sidewalk. The Jedi didn't stop his relentless assault, past caring that the monster was dead.

It wasn't until the fiftieth slam that he finally stopped abusing the ruined pulp.

With trembling breaths, Revan pushed his kill away in disgust. His gloves were sticky with brain and black fluid. Blinking away the blood, Revan saw his victim clearly for the first time. The aspirant resembled a dead insect smeared on the bottom of a pedestrian's boot.

The Jedi felt no joy in the kill, only a bitter hollowness where his fury had been. His anger had robbed him of anything resembling victory.

Eventually, the scope of what he had just done became clear and Revan despaired. He didn't delude himself for a second in thinking this level of carnage was warranted. This wasn't justice, just raw unchained murder. It didn't matter that his victims were the most heinous scum of the galaxy. Revan had disgraced himself this day with this defilement. He truly was damned.

The Jedi knelt and palmed his face into his blood soaked hands. He sat on the floor for many minutes, silently praying that she would emerge into his mind's eye again. He wanted her to appear so he could beg her for forgiveness and see that she understood.

After many painful seconds though, it was clear that the girl was gone now, gone along with any notion of salvation. The Jedi didn't know what pained him more then, his actions or the fact that she had turned her back when Revan needed to see her the most. Within this dark turmoil, he came to a decision.

_Oblivion, I crave that boon more than anything now._

He instinctively reached for the lightsaber at his side until he remembered the weapon had been tossed away.

Desultorily, Revan started to look for it...until a chill breeze behind him froze him in his tracks. Instinctively he turned and the oppressive smoke began to diminish, sucked away by some invisible entity. The fires diminished as well and soon the entire bridge became visible once more. Revan looked up and he saw the source of the change.

Victus stood in front of him wearing the smile the Sith was born with. He gave him a mocking salute.

* * *

Mysteel and T'shere were fighting again.

The Mole had been driving back into the city when they felt the concussive tremors. Kynes reported seeing the great plume of smoke funneling from the direction of the bridge. Soon after, Arctet had reported that the vehicles they were tracking had stopped moving. T'shere figured that Revan would had huffed it within seconds of the engagement. But after Arctet reported many minutes of inactivity, it became clear that the Jedi was putting up a better fight than T'shere anticipated.

"Maybe...maybe we should go back," Arctet ventured eventually.

Mysteel latched onto the idea enthusiastically, raising a few eyebrows. Everyone knew she was terrified of Victus. T'shere however had taken the exact opposite view. What had started as a heated argument had turned into a shouting match while everyone looked on with trepidation. The confrontation was tense with both females acting like petulant children. Neither were willing to back down.

"By the time we get there, he'll be dead." T'shere said stubbornly at one point.

"Not if you stop sitting on your ass!" Replied Mysteel hotly. "We have to-"

"No! We're not risking life and limb for him. End of story." Replied her sister hotly. Unwisely, she added.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm the commander."

The Twi'lek looked furious that her sister had pulled rank on her.

"You're so full of hot air T'shere!" Shouted Mysteel. "No wonder you're breasts are so big!"

T'shere's own face flushed with crimson at the barb. "At least I'm not some flat chested Twi'lek with less common sense than an Ewok in a candy factory!"

"Yeah? Well with those love balloons, I'm surprised you can't fly!"

"You-!"

Shut up, both of you! Snapped Kynes before Arkanian could whip up a suitably scathing retort. Both of them jumped at the sharpness of her tone.

"Look at you two. You chatter like Jawas at a bazaar but with less sense!"

The sniper gave them both a wintery stare, hands folded in front of her breasts.

The two sisters looked suitably chastened that they had let heir argument degenerate into childish name calling. The scouts looked suitably disappointed there wasn't going to be a cat fight. After they subsided, Kynes pointed back in the direction Revan had run off of.

"Enough of this. Victus and his troupe have not moved for the past half hour. Whatever has happened, the Jedi has forced our hand."

Mysteel's expression brightened immediately.

"Oh Kynes, I knew you were my girl. I should be sleeping with you!" she announced happily. The Twi'lek turned back to her glowering sister in triumph.

"Well if our master of scouts thinks we should save him, who am I to-,"

"That's not what I said," interrupted Kynes brusquely. "I agree that we shouldn't intervene, but neither should we stand idly by while there is a chance that the weapon could be compromised with Revan's theatrics."

She left the rest unspoken. After a few seconds, T'shere said in a chilly voice.

"Fine. We'll go in closer and appraise the situation. But if the Jedi is getting his ass handed to him on a platter, he's on his own."

The Twi'lek looked like she wanted to argue more but one look from Kynes and the scouts told her she wouldn't get any support. Defeated, she sagged back into her seat muttering as T'shere gave their driver a sharp look.

"Do it."

* * *

"I think you dropped this," said Victus, holding out his lightsaber. Revan's eyes narrowed, thinking the sick man meant to taunt him with his own weapon.

To his surprise, the Sith Lord tossed the metal object back to him. The Jedi caught it in mid air, taking a good look to check it was undamaged before returning his attention to the Weeper.

"What happens now?" Revan asked.

"You know the answer to that," replied Victus with his patented grin. There was a swagger to his movements as he slowly approached the Jedi.

"One of us kills the other."

This time Victus did laugh. "I think you can narrow it down a little bit."

Revan tensed as the Weeper came closer, but the other man made no moved to draw his weapon. Victus gestured at his belt pouch.

"Go on, take your time. I won't stop you."

Revan stared at the other man, looking for any signs of treachery but Victus maintained his calm facade. Never taking his eyes off the other man, Revan reached into his pouch and pulled out a syringe that contained an advanced infusion of cortisone mixed with plasma. He uncorked the stopper and swabbed his shoulder with alcohol. As the Jedi went about the task of mending, Victus swept his clawed hands at the carnage around them.

"Quite the tantrum you've thrown here haven't you? I honestly thought my charges would put up a better show."

Victus didn't seem overtly concerned about his devastating losses.

"Truth be told, those aspirants were of poor stock. Too many had exhibited the genetic flaw. And deprived of a central voice, they lacked anything resembling coordination during their hunt."

"Then it sounds like I did you a favor." Replied Revan grimly. He injected the contents of the stimulant into his shoulder. Immediately, the pain from his wounds dulled and he felt renewed vigor rush through his limbs. The swelling abated and the Jedi found he could move his arm without too much discomfort.

The Weeper made a show of admiring the Jedi's bloodied face.

"But going back to my original point, I must say I enjoyed watching your craft. Very…visceral to say the least. And here I thought you said we didn't have anything in common _brother_."

The man's casual remark drew his ire. "Stop calling me that. We have nothing to share, Sith Lord."

Victus sighed in consternation.

"Didn't you hear what I said before? There are _no _Sith. The Sith were a primitive and superstitious warmongering race synonymous with wanton killing and anger. Their name was a derogatory term the Order put on their wayward children to hide their secret shame. Despite all you're protests, history shows we are cut from the same cloth. I am as much a Jedi as you can possibly claim to be."

Revan sneered at the braggart. It offended the Jedi that Victus would still consider himself part of the august Order, if he was ever part of it at all. The skinned draped warrior walked up to his latest kill and gave an approving nod.

"And by the look of things, I know we draw from the same fount of strength. You know…from that unquenchable source of fury that seethes just below our skin. Both of _use_ that hatebut we are not beholden to that feeling. As I've said time and time again, it takes a lot restraint to be this deadly."

The Jedi didn't deign to answer him. He simply kept wrapping bandages around his wounds and flexed his muscles for the inevitable conflict. Victus took his silence as an invitation to keep talking.

"I like you Revan. Your behavior shows you understand a fundamental flaw within the Order. A hypocrisy. People have this romantic ideal that the Jedi are peacekeepers, diplomats or emissaries."

The Weeper laughed at that notion.

"But everybody ignores the meat of the matter. No matter how you like to parse your words, Jedi are _killers _first and foremost. They shed the blood of many so that a few may prosper."

Revan wasn't surprised at the other's warped view but he found himself saying.

"Is that how you justify you excesses?" He retorted

"I live by a certain mantra," replied Victus matter-of-factly.

"And that mantra is…_Why not_?"

Revan's eyes narrowed at the words.

"If you were really a Jedi once, you'd know the Order only kills to preserve peace in the galaxy. The Republic endures because of their sacrifice."

Victus actually seemed to accept this,

"Oh, the Order sacrifices I agree. Civilizations can only thrive through the blood of others. But the council's motives are…shall we say…less than altruistic. They only kill to keep their status quo, while the rest of the galaxy suffers."

"And how do you suppose that?" asked Revan, hoping to keep the other man occupied. As he talked, the Jedi began measuring an anticoagulant serum into a vial.

Victus gestured to the forlorn landscape beyond.

"Look around you Revan. This world, like everything else about the Republic is a stagnating cage and it is all because of the galaxy's so called protectors."

"You dare lay the plight of the galaxy on them?" snarled Revan, temporarily stopping his work. The gall of this pretender never ceased to amaze him.

"If it were not for traitors like you or Exar Kun, the galaxy would be thriving."

For the first time, Victus face furrowed in confusion.

"Who? Oh...I suppose you're referring to the leader of the last revolt. The last person who was indignant with the state of things."

Victus chuckled. "I assure you, I'm nothing like that _tosser._ Although now that you mention it, I should take _some_ credit for the last upheaval. In fact, I like to think me and my Cult were an inspiration to this Exar Kun and his merry band of misfits."

_What is he talking about?_ Thought Revan. What did Victus have to do with a wayward rogue or the countless others before who vied for power?

The man moved away from him then to stare out on onto the bridge and the murky polluted waters below.

"But you've just illustrated my point perfectly. In their desperation to remain in control, the Order casts out and crushes everything that does not align with their point of view. Ingenuity is stamped out, independence smothered. Traitors, they called us. Deviants. I remember it was like that for us as well. And later, they named us Sith, secretly hoping over the generations, the Republic would forget the Jedi Order had fractured internally and irreparably."

The Sith Lord actually sounded sad when he said this.

"But I know the truth. I was there…"

As Victus trailed off, Revan got the impression the other man was re-living a very distant memory. The Jedi silently injected his cocktail into his livid wound and blood stopped pumping out. Victus shook himself out of his reverie and turned back to the Jedi.

"I've come to admire their cunning in a way. They claim only through unity and peace can the Republic survive, but secretly the Jedi covet upheaval. Wars are fought and won to ensure their own survival."

He spat on the floor, a nasty acid of black and red that sizzled as it made contact.

"What hypocrites these men are."

"You've got the cart backwards Victus. The Jedi Order was created to stop wars, not to start them."

Vicus snorted at the response, his voice was dripping with contempt.

"Dont be naive Revan. Do you honestly think the Jedi Order can justify their existence without waging war? No. Strife. Conflict. Fear. These are the things that keep them existing. The Jedi would never admit it, but these monsters they conjure up, these so called Sith are as integral in their perverse organization as any other legitimate body. Their propaganda machine is the finest in the galaxy. The council claims that without their protection, the galaxy would degenerate into a lawless realm of chaos and anarchy. And the Republic is so fearful of the unknown, they willingly let the Jedi herd them like sheep, unaware that they are all pawns in their greater game."

Victus' smile returned then, as if he recalled something pleasant.

"But it seems fate has a sense of humor after all. The Order has become indolent and overconfident of their complete totalitarian authority. It cost them life and limb during the last war. And even decades later, the wounds from that fallout festers like a cankerous sore. Everyone with a lick of sense can see they are on the verge of complete collapse. Enemies of all stripes and colors smell this weakness and they are coming in to perform the coup the grace."

The Weeper began walking back to the Jedi, arms outstretched.

"And once they are extinguished, my Cult will carve out the Republic's rotten entrails and breath fresh life into its hallowed husk. It will be the perfect vindication."

Revan eyes narrowed, finding himself worried at the Sith Lord's proclamation. It was true that the Jedi were diminished and that they had many enemies. But were they really congregating for a coordinated mass assault on the Republic? Belatedly, Revan recalled what the Mandalorian on Solace had said to him.

_Of course we'll return Jedi. How can you believe otherwise? And when that time comes, you're galaxy will burn._

The Jedi decided to venture a question of his own while he wrapped his shoulder with bandages soaked in antiseptic.

"Are you responsible for the Mandalorian's aggressions in the Outer Rim?"

"The Mandalorian's? My Cult could care less about those tinheads."

"But you claimed to have influenced the last insurrection with Exar Kun."

"I didn't say I influenced the insurrection, I said my Cult was a role model." stated Victus flatly

"If you really want to lay blame for the Mandalorians, put it on those wretches that actually think of themselves as Sith."

Victus made a disgusted noise.

"Pffah, such narrow vision. Always going on about revenge. What do they know about revenge? They weren't even there when the Order cast them out. Oh, they make all the right noises about how their kind were unjustly wronged and so on and so forth. But truth be told, their bark is worse than their bite. If they were left to their own devices, they might kill a few million people and raze some planets. But in the end they would repeat the same mistakes and fail."

The Weeper's black pits met Revan's own then and he smiled.

"But the _Renatus_ won't let that happen this time. Unlike all of our kind, he sees the long term in events. Most importantly he _knows_ how it will unfold. Things will change, I can guarantee that."

Revan had finally finished his ministrations and turned to confront his opponent. The two were facing each other now, barely two meters apart.

"Exar Kun failed, you will fare no better."

"Noise Revan. My actions will vindicate me in the end."

He pointed a dirty finger at the Jedi

"You accused me of getting the Order's philosophy backwards, but you can't be more wrong. The Order thought it was right because it was mighty. But my Cult _is_ mighty because we _are_ right. Woe to the fool that puts effect before cause."

The Jedi had heard enough. He pointed his weapon at the Sith Lord in blatant challenge.

"Enough stalling. If there is any truth to your words then you are a traitor. And there is only one fate for traitors."

Revan accentuated his point by igniting his lightsaber. The glowing blue blade came hissing alive with anticipation.

"Indeed." Replied Victus with his telltale smile. His gaunt hand snaked into the folds of his cloak. With exquisite care, he drew forth his barbed implement of torture. The horrid instrument came alive as a red tongue of energy spouted from its orifice. The two warriors lowered their stances and began circling, taking stock of the other. Revan was close enough that he could feel the other's body heat emanating like a pheromone. Victus gave his opponent another mocking salute.

"Don't worry Revan. I won't kill you. I can't because you're already dead. You just don't now it yet."

The Jedi's response was to raise his blade to the side of his face with his left foot leading, his most favored battle stance. Victus adopted a fencing pose, shifting his body to one side with his lightsaber pointed forward in blatant threat.

"The _Renatus_ will want you for himself of course. But I don't think he'll mind if I take a little souvenir."

"And what would that be?" asked Revan coldly as he gripped the handle of his weapon tighter. Adrenaline pumped through him as his predatory senses came alive, looking for any signs of weakness.

"Can't you guess what I want?"

Victus laughed.

"Your eyes Revan. I want your eyes."

With that, the Weeper charged at his prey.


	19. Chapter 19 Revan vs Victus

_The Jedi who fights alone, dies alone._

_-Lucidae_

* * *

Revan braced for the impact.

Time seemed to warp as the Sith Lord descended. One moment Victus was moving, almost in slow motion and then suddenly he struck like a coiling snake, his horrid lightsaber lashing out to puncture his throat with frightening speed.

It was almost a killing blow, but Revan parried the thrust just enough to let the blade tip to the side. Angry sparks singed his skin as the horrible blade shrieked millimetres from his ear.

The close encounter galvanized the Jedi into motion. Shoving the Weeper's weapon wide, Revan stepped into his enemy's guard, executing a brutal three sequence combination, a pair of frontal slashes that turned into a spinning overhead swipe.

At such close range, Revan should have struck true, but the Weeper was insanely fast, faster than the micro vibrations from a fly's wings. Victus' body became an indistinct blur as he deflected the first two attacks with a figure eight slash and arched his back as the third whisked by.

With a guttural laugh, the Weeper came back up and struck his opponent solidly in the chest with his metal hand. Revan stumbled but managed to stay upright. The Jedi leapt back, putting distance from his deadly opponent.

"A hit," said Victus coyly. "A palpable hit,"

Having taken stock of the other's fighting style, they circled like two beasts on a mating ritual. Revan held his lightsaber out, pacing the battleground with a predator's grace, while his enemy moved with a haughty swagger, brimming with arrogance. The Sith Lord had reversed his fencing style, the lightsaber held low to the side with his metal arm poised to attack. Victus maintained his patented slimy grin while Revan's stared at him with grim determination.

"Come brother, show me your fury,"

The Weeper crooked his fingers back and forth then, a blatant sign of challenge. The Jedi ignored the taunt and fell back to his training, allowing himself to find his center. Under his breath, he began to mutter a mantra his first Master had ingrained into his mind as part of his combat doctrine.

…_I am the shield of the Republic, its mailed fist of justice, the harbinger of its holy retribution. I fear no enemy for I am death made manifest… _

Revan's breathing slowed and his vision narrowed so that his entire world encompassed only one thing, his opponent. Every muscle in his body grew taut as a coiled spring, his mind moving into a heightened state of awareness. The pent up anticipation culminated into a unbearable crescendo. Then suddenly, it snapped.

With every neuron firing in full throttle, the Jedi exploded into motion.

It happened in a blink of a eye: Revan was suddenly in front of the Sith Lord executing a murderous flurry of attacks. Right, left, uppercut, backflip followthrough, parry, counter, thrust, jab-. The Jedi never relented, increasing his second tempo with every passing second. He attacked with all the skill bred into his bones since the onset of his training, using every trick, nuance and attack combination that he knew. The Jedi became a dervish of blue, lightsaber coming out from every conceivable angle. He switched rapidly between lightning quick jabs and two handed slashes to break his opponent's tempo, always keeping the pattern unpredictable. Every action meshed into one perfect ballet of strikes, parries and counterattacks, his movements graceful, his form flawless.

In contrast Victus was a hurricane of violent motion. The Weeper batted each attack away savagely with erratic gyrations, his freakish speed more than enough to meet the challenge. The Sith Lord did not so much dance as he did contort his way through the onslaught of attacks. He twisted his legs from a slash then sucked in his chest to avoid disembowelment, only to explode with his own furious onslaught of scything cuts.

Their lightsabers sang out as a constant note, a discordant melody of anguish and hate. Theirs was the dance of death, where one misstep meant utter annihilation. Revan was under no illusion that he could hold anything back. He knew that in order to win, he must be willing to go further than his opponent, to push his body to his utter limits.

With that thought, the Jedi feinted left, then right before darting back to the original side with a scathing downward slash. His opponent sidestepped to his left, making it harder for Revan to follow through. Unexpectedly though, the Jedi tossed his light saber into his other hand even as he pivoted to keep Victus in his line of sight.

His offhand lashed out like a coiled snake.

Revan's surprise maneuver nicked Victus' jugular, scorching his mottled skin. The Sith Lord grunted in pain but did not recoil. He countered by swinging his weapon at the Jedi's midsection as he came in, weapon hissing as it cut through the air. Revan leapt over the vicious strike and landed under Victus' guard. With a snarl, he plunged the lightsaber deep into the Sith Lord's chest and into his tainted heart.

The effect was immediate.

The Sith Lord screamed. He staggered and fell to one knee from the fatal blow, seemingly incapacitated. Revan though, had enough experience with his kind's freakish constitution to know that Victus would not die from something as trivial as a hole in his chest. And sure enough, the Weeper's blade swung out for his neck moments later, just as Revan danced out of the way.

As the Weeper rose unsteadily, Jedi mounted another rush, peppering the Sith Lord with quick savage strikes. The tide was gradually turning as Victus reeled from the onslaught, his motions no longer lightning quick. He threw a half hearted slash to ward off the Jedi, which he dodged with contemptuous ease. Revan weaved past Victus' sluggish guard to stab him twice in the stomach, eliciting another scream. As the tattered man keeled over from the latest injury, Revan opened the tendons on his right arm with a brutal side slash. The Sith Lord's attack arm grew slack and he was effectively defenceless.

_I am winning,_ Revan thought savagely. He continued to torment Victus, dancing in to land a stinging blow, and retreating before the Sith Lord could mount an effective response. Like a murder of crows, the Jedi was literally picking his victim apart.

Victus pitched around drunkenly like a swaying mast as the Jedi lay waste to him, his fleshy clothing stripped to ribbons.

After a few more passes, Revan frowned. Something was wrong.

By all rights, the Sith Lord should have died a dozen times over from the horrendous punishment. He undoubtedly had the upper hand, but Victus wouldn't _couldn't_ drop. And although he was screaming, the pitch didn't sound he was in agony.

_It sounds more like…_

Rean stopped his onslaught to stare at his opponent in disbelief as realization kicked in.

Victus wasn't in pain, he was in ecstasy.

To the Jedi's horror and disgust, the man was drooling black porous ooze from is eye sockets, an expression of transcendent pleasure locked onto his face.

"Yess!" the Weeper shrieked at him. "Again!"

The words disgusted him. Truly Victus was an abomination to the Jedi Order. Somehow, the Sith Lord was getting off while being sliced open like a piece of fruit, the burn marks triggering pleasure signals in his warped brain. The very notion offended he Jedi.

Forcing the bile back down his throat, Revan leapt in and swung his light saber overhead to take the hideous creature's head off. The blow got nowhere near his target as Victus' hand snaked out faster than Revan imagined possible, grabbing him by the wrist. The Jedi motion was halted as effectively as if he had just struck an immovable object.

With a roar, the Weeper hauled him off his feet and swung the Jedi three hundred and sixty degrees, gaining momentum. Then he pitched Revan into the air one handed, like the Jedi weighed nothing more than a pebble.

The Jedi sailed for a dozen feet like a human bullet before crashing straight into an metal barrier with a sickening crunch. He came to rest on a bed of shattered glass, grunting of pain while his lightsaber rolled away from his slackened hand.

The victim gingerly raised himself into a sitting position, feeling like someone had just dropped a hundred tones of bricks on him. For the first time since the battle started, Revan felt a flicker of doubt. Not only was Victus inhumanly strong, he was actually gaining strength from the brutal punishment. If he didn't think of a solution soon, the Weeper would tear him apart, regardless of how many attacks Revan hit him with. The Jedi struggled to move as every bone in his body screamed in protest. It was only when he leaned back that Revan noticed that his back was wet.

_Is that…_

Catching a wiff of the acrid tang in the air, an idea came to him.

Revan fell back, inert against the metal barrier, looking incapacitated. Victus grinned as he came stalking forward, thinking the Jedi too injured to defend himself. He stretched his metal hand to back to gore his victim while he lay prone.

As his talons plunged straight at Revan's face, the Jedi jerked his head to the side, just as the attack threatened to cave in his skull. Victus hit metal instead, creating a massive rent into the barrier. Volatile liquid spurted from the hole, drenching the Sith Lord in oil.

Victus recoiled cursing.

Revan staggered to his feet and tried to scramble away, but the Weeper was on him in the blink of an eye, blocking his line of sight and hauled him bodily off the floor by the neck.

Long metal fingers constricted painfully like a snake would constrict on its prey. Revan eyes widened as he began to choke. Squirming like a cornered rat, he tried to fend the other man's hand off with his own but the Sith Lord grip was unrelenting. The Jedi felt his airways clamp down as he tried to gasp in precious pockets of air.

"Slippery little bastard, aren't you? " Rasped the Weeper, tightening his grip even more. The Jedi gurgled and pawed at his opponent's tattered garments with seeming futility. Victus laughed, as Revan thrashed in his death throes.

But then, he felt something cold drop onto his chest and heard a curious beeping sound. Victus looked down and saw three faint glowing red dots glinting on the folds wrapping around his chest.

His tar pit orifices widened.

Revan used this distraction to break the man's iron clad grip with a twist of his arms. He dropped on the ground and threw himself as far as he could. The Jedi just managed to shield his head away as the Weeper was suddenly immolated in crimson death, a huge ball of flame engulfing his erstwhile enemy. The concussive force threw Revan back dozens of feet more before coming to rest in an undignified heap.

The Jedi hastily rolled on his side to smother out the flames and patted out the rest, making sure nothing was irreparably damaged. The detonators had been primed to the lowest yield setting, but he could still feel flash burns and scorch marks on the unprotected areas of his body.

A hideous scream caught his attention.

As he stood back up, Revan knew his pain was nothing compared to what Victus was feeling now. The Weeper looked like a pyromaniac, fiery red tendrils of flame licking around his entire upper torso. The Sith Lord shrieked a banshee's wail as he flailed, his body jerking with violent spasms.

Revan looked on with a savage light in his eyes, not shying away from the horrific scene one bit. He savoured this moment, taking a perverse pleasure in seeing the other man's agony. The Jedi knew he shouldn't indulge in these base feelings, but it was hard not feel a certain sense of jubilation at his retribution.

_That was for the slaves _he thought through gritted teeth.

After what seemed like an eternity, the piece of meat finally stopped resisting. The Weeper collapsed into a stinking charnel heap as the flames died down to dull embers on his ruined body.

Silence descended upon the battlefield.

With cautious steps, Revan approached the newly formed cadaver and inspected his handiwork.

Victus looked like a ruin of amalgamated patchwork flesh. The hair on his head had been scorched to cinders and the skin clothing on his entire upper body had been burned away. A nightmare of grey and black scabs puckered across his chest area, accentuated by criss crossing surgery scars and distended veins. But as horrible as this monster was, that wasn't what disgusted Revan the most. The chest was heaving up and down in shallow gasps.

_He's...he's still_ _alive._

Impossible. Nothing could survive direct contact with a thermo detonator, not to mention three. The weapon was literally designed to incinerate body parts at the molecular level.

Revan would have marveled at the man's constitution if he wasn't so disgusted by this appalling creature. Victus was as unnatural as anything the Jedi had encounted in this galaxy.

_What happens now?_ He thought

At one point of his life, he might have accepted Victus' deplorable state as surrender and show compassion live but Revan shook the notion away now. When had mercy ever helped him? Whenever he had shown restraint to his enemies, he always ended up paying the iron price. No, mercy was for the weak.

As Revan walked up to pick up his lightsaber, he decided to at least grant the wretch a quick death. That was more kindness than the bastard deserved.

His weapon came to life with a violent hiss as light rain sparked against the glowing blade. The Jedi walked to one side of the pathetic corpse thing and knelt, flipping the weapon into an underhand grip.

"Victus. I name you traitor," said Revan grimly, knowing the dying man could still hear. "Your existence is a blight to the Republic and to the natural order of things."

With a steadying breath he lifted his weapon high.

"May the Force grant you mercy because I have none to give"

With that, the Jedi plunged the weapon downward at his skull to complete the execution….

…when a clawed hand clamped down on arm.

It halted the thrust just as the tip of the weapon was about to come into contact with the flayed skin. Revan didn't even have time to be surprised as he was violently thrown off his feet. The Jedi sailed even higher this time, twirling in mid air before crashing on his side with a bone splitting crunch.

The impact forced him to cough out blood. Slowly, very slowly he dared to raise his head, and what he saw took his breath away. Revan could only stare in disbelief as the thing that called himself the Weeper rose from like a leviathan from his deathbed.

_How? How is this possible?_ He thought, as he got back up unsteadily from the unexpected assault.

Victus looked like a man possessed, black fluid pouring down his ruined face, the jaw muscles locked into a rictus grin. Most horrifying of all, the Sith Lord was laughing again. No, not laughing, he was _howling_ in orgasmic pleasure.

_Now, this! Is! Liiiiviiiiing!_

The Weeper shrieked, his voice rising up to painful decibels. The scream continued to magnify into unbearable proportions, it's violent vibrations shattering the glass and shearing metal.

Revan reeled back in agony, instinctively trying to cover his ears even as he felt his vision cloud in a red haze. He blinked, and realized to his horror that his eyes were leaking blood.

The Sith Lord wasn't done. While the Jedi staggered, he dashed in an landed a hammer blow out with his metal hand, launching the Jedi back with terrifying force. He slid several feet on the slick blood, stunned and bruised. Revan tried to recover his footing quickly butt gagged, his stomach locking up in violent spasms.

_That scream…he actually hurt me with his scream..._

Shaking the cobwebs from his head, the Jedi saw Victus charging at him like a raging Rancor, all semblance of discipline lost. Revan instinctively dodged to one side while thrusting out his lightsaber to halt the madman's charged.

The tip went straight through the Sith Lord's groin. Revan twisted the blade, and Victus screamed, keeling over from the force of the attack.

Revan allowed himself to grin. As resilient, as Victus' breed was, that _had_ to hurt.

_Die _he thought savagely. _Die you bastard,_

But then, the Weeper stood straight, barely seeming to register the wound. He twisted his body _into_ the glowing blade and landed a scathing lightsaber cut across the Jedi's cheek as punishment. Superheated energy branded Revan's flesh into a charred ruin.

Revan felt agony flare in his head and he shouted in pain. Blindly, he withdrew his weapon from the Weeper's privy parts and back-pedaled, trying to create space. Victus came on undaunted, laughing as he swung his weapon with wild abandon.

The Jedi desperately threw his blade up in front and tried to fend off as many of the savage attacks as possible. For many seconds, he dodged and parried, using his superior speed to avoid a deathblow and land glancing strikes when possible.

Victus paid as much attention to the attacks as he might to an insect buzzing in his face.

And despite the superior ratio of injuries inflicted, Revan was the wearier. The adrenaline from his initial onslaught had receded and his many wounds were beginning to take his toll. He breathed raggedly through his mouth, feeling his energy bleed away like his blood. His hands felt like two pieces of lead, numbed from the jarring impacts of the Sith Lord's weapon.

Worse, Victus seemed to be gaining momentum, his blows becoming faster and more aggressive. It seemed impossible to Revan, but Victus was actually getting _stronger_ as the battle progressed.

_This isn't working. I need another pl-_

Revan couldn't even finish the though as he ducked a wild slash that would have spilled out his entrails. The move brought him off balance and gave the chance for the Weeper to swing his lightsaber in a devastating uppercut, breaking through the Jedi's guard. Revan stumbled and collided against another broken heap of junk.

His vicious opponent followed through, punching his metal fist straight for the Jedi's skull. Revan lurched aside, nanoseconds before the lethal strike crashed into the twisted metal. Victus struck so deeply that the hand became wedged into the metal sheets. The Sith Lord thrashed wildly as he tried to liberate himself and Revan took the chance to stagger away.

After retreating several feet, he glanced back, thinking the Sith Lord was immobilized. But with a horrible screeching of twisted metal, Victus _lifted _the ruined wreckage into the air, all ten tones of amalgamated metal. Revan could only stare in disbelief as Victus howled and threw it at the Jedi like a boulder.

The moment's distraction cost him dearly.

Revan desperately tried to throw himself to one side, but the huge projectile caught him straight in the shoulder. There was a huge crack, and Revan found himself spinning in mid air. He flipped and bounced on the ground for several seconds like a discarded ration can before coming to rest in a crumpled heap.

This time, the Jedi didn't get up. All he could do was cough out blood. Revan couldn't feel the left side of his body and the pain in his head had reached unbearable levels. Black dots were starting to swam his vision and Revan knew he was close to unconsciousness. Distantly, he could hear a voice screaming into his ear.

_Get up…_it screamed. _Get up before Victus can…_

It never finished. Revan felt his hair being pulled painfully back. Through blurry eyes, he beheld the spectre of his death looking back at him. Victus' face resembled nothing human, every line etched with pain, hate and ecstasy.

"Dear Revan, are you hurt?" he asked mockingly "Don't die on me now. We we just starting to have fun,"

Laughing manically, the Sith Lord started hammering his metal hand into his victim's chest like a piston. There were sickening crunches as Revan felt his ribs shatter under the constant brutal force. The Jedi choked in agony, even as fountains of blood began to fill his lungs. The Weeper was literally tenderized his body into a pulpy ruin. Then came the rest.

His cheekbone shattered as Victus launched a savage punch him. _Crunch_ "Hmmmph"

His elbow snapped as Victus twisted it the wrong way. _Snap_. Revan screamed.

Then Victus launched him into a metal wall. _Crack_. _Crack. Crack crack, crack, crack, crack..._

As the Jedi felt his skull being dashed open, a single thought coalesced into his mind.

_I am going to die_.

The thought chilled him. Not the notion of death, for death was inevitable. But he thought it would be on a glorious battlefield in one last stand against a foe with superior numbers, not on some backwater planet where no-one could hear his screams.

Surprisingly at that moment, he thought about T'shere. Revan realized the Arkanian had been right all along. Victus _was_ better. He was stronger, faster and more vicious. And in his arrogance, Revan had run straight into a shit storm. In that moment, he realized his own folly. Revan was so quick to condemn other people for acting rashly that he completely overlooked his own shortcomings.

All this flitted through his head even as it began to leak open.

Then mercifully, the attacks stopped and Victus hoisted him back up. Revan jerked spasmodically then became still, suspended in the Sith Lord's grip, corpse-like. Every part of his body was broken, but surprisingly, Revan felt very little, like a sense of detachment from the mortal coil.

_That's…that's bad._ Even with his diminishing consciousness, he knew that meant his brain was beginning to shut down, trying to desensitize him in order preserve his vital functions. That or his vital functions had already stopped working.

That was it, he had lost. Revan wanted nothing more than to fall dead to the world then, so that he wouldn't have to live the ignomity of defeat to this monster.

Fate was never so kind though. With infinite malice in his face, the Sith Lord leaned into latest conquest, so close their faces were practically touching. Black drool mixed with patches of his skin, partially sloughed away from the burning. Revan tried to gag from the rank smell of decay, but he couldn't even do that.

Like a grotesque parasite, Victus sucked the blood off Revan's face, making disgusting squelching noises as he feasted. When he was done, the Weeper raised his head and sucked in a breath of air.

"You know Revan..." Victus said exhaling slowly. "To shed the blood of a brother. It pains me more than it pains you."

He then tilted his head to the side. "Then again, maybe not."

And then, Victus laughed. A horrid mocking painful laugh.

Revan mouth was too broken and twisted to reply, but he felt his own pulse quicken. Eventually Victus stopped and the cruel grin on Victus' face widened. He leaned to the side.

"When I see your friend next…" Victus whispered through ruined lips to his ear. "I will tell her you failed,"

Then, with a fluidity born from countless practice, the Sith Lord plunged his metal hand into Revan's right eye socket and twisted.

The Jedi screamed in agony, his whole body shuddering at the violation. His was a world of red pain, unthinking primal and vicious.

His tormentor ignored them screams and focused on the prize, tugging with exquisite slowness as the optic nerves snapped free one by one. Then, with a horrid squelching sound, Victus pulled his prize out with a savage jerk. Laughing in ecstasy, the Sith Lord raised the Jedi's eye into the air like medal of honor. He shook his metal hand in savage triumph before placing the orb in his flesh clothes. Revan blacked in and out, his leaking body jerking uncontrollably.

Victus kept him on the brink of consciousness by slapping him repeatedly.

"Focus Revan." Rasped the Sith Lord. "You're going to sleep through the grand finale."

With that, the Sith Lord clawed hand had retracted again, poised to snatch his remaining eye. Revan instinctively turned his head away but he knew it would be useless. He wanted death more than anything in that moment. Not only would he have to live with the ignomity of this defeat, but to be blind and crippled…

The Jedi struggled feebly for a few more seconds before his body's energy reserves were finally exhausted. The Jedi fell slack, hoping that the transition to complete oblivion would be quick.

_I'm sorry Master Vandar. I'm sorry I never-_

He braced himself as he felt the whoosh of wind as the metal hand plunged in.

_Bang_

The Jedi's heard a piercing shriek, but it wasn't him. He dared to open his remaining eye.

Victus' head was drenched in his sickly black blood. A huge reactive round had punctured through his left temple and out the other side. The Sith Lord was shrieking in agony, clutching his ruined temple with one hand while shaking him like a mindless beast.

_Who…?_

* * *

Kynes looked out from her sighting scope and gave a faint curse.

"Why did you stop?" asked Mysteel urgently , "Keep shooting the bastard!"

"Victus is moving too much.," said Kynes without turning her head. "He's got the Jedi in my crosshairs again. I'd risk missing a shot or rupturing a fuel valve,"

"You never miss!" the Twi'lek exclaimed, shaking her shoulder frantically.

"Do you really want this to be the first time?" replied the sniper crossly, shaking off the annoying Twi'lek. She shifted her body slightly and adjusted a dial on her rifle. Mysteel looked torn, caught between saving the Jedi's life and accidentally throwing it away. A few meters away, T'shere looked at the scene with a pair of magnifiers.

"Come on, Jedi," she muttered under her breath. "Do something,"

* * *

As Victus continued to reel from the massive trauma to his head, Revan knew that he would never have a better chance. Using all his discipline, the Jedi looked for anything to help break away. His remaining eye darted frantically for a few moment before he saw a blurry vision of his salvation. Victus' lightsaber, all spikes and red gore.

Revan fumbled blindly at the monster's belt with his fingers for many agonizing seconds as his tormentor roared incoherently.

_Come on…come on…_

Miraculously, he managed to wrench the weapon away. Ignoring the new cuts in his fingers, he activated the trigger and the horrid weapon came alive with a savage red hiss.

Even in his beastial state, Victus realized what was happening. Mindlessly, he opened his maw to clamp down on his victim, showing a forest of blackened razor sharp teeth. The Weeper let out a roar of incoherent hate.

_Raaaaaaaaaaaaargh!_

The Jedi reeled back in horror as acidic spittle flecked off his ruined face. All Revan could see was his own death in that mouth. Victus was going to bite his face off.

_No! _

Revan never knew where he found the strength to do what he did next. With a gurgle of revulsion, he wrenched his sword hand into the side of Victus' waiting maw and twisted.

The effect was instantaneous. Red hot energy seared through diseased flesh and bone like butter, cleaving straight through Victus' jaw. The undulating roar cut off as the lower part of the Sith Lord's mouth literally evaporated into atoms, destroyed by his own malicious weapon.

Blinded by pain, Victus threw the Jedi onto the ground, and convulsed like an animal.

The Jedi slumped, soaking in a puddle of his own blood, the last of his strength sapped by his last act of defiance. The last image he saw was the terrible aspect of the Weeper clawing at his ruined face like an animal before his entire world dissolved into darkness.

"Target acquired," hissed Kynes.

* * *

With the Jedi out of the way, the sniper had a full view of the Weeper. And deprived of his reflexes, his weapon and any conceivable cover, Victus was just an ordinary man.

Kynes what she did best then. She sighted down her sniper scope with effortless precision and fired.

An angry bolt of red energy lanced out at the Sith Lord, perforating him through the chest. The shot ripped through his ribcage and out the back in a welter of blood and stringy meat.

Her next shot blew apart Victus' right arm in a spectacular shower of gore. The next punctured his throat from the side, creating a ragged hole. Kynes blew another hole into Victus' skull for good measure. She fired again and again with unerring accuracy until the cartridge clicked and ran dry. She raised her weapon.

"Bang" said Kynes.

* * *

Time slowed again, just as it had at the beginning of the battle. It seemed reality itself could not conceive what just happened. Victus dropped to his knees with exquisite slowness, like a ancient oak toppling precariously after being cut. It seemed like an eternity before he hit the blood soaked ground with a sickening squelch of meat.

Victus convulsed in his death throes for many seconds. Then the Weeper, a Reborn and chosen of Malleus stopped moving and stayed silent.

* * *

T'shere and her team rushed onto the battle scene where the Sith and Jedi had their climatic battle. Many of the scouts stared in disbelief at the carnage wrought. Arctet threw up when he saw some of the ruined corpses smeared on the ground like paste.

Even Kynes looked visibly disturbed. She stared for a couple of seconds before shaking her head and issuing brisk orders for her subordinates to secure the area.

While her team went about their business, the Arkanian walked up to where the Weeper lay and inspected the sniper's handiwork. The Sith Lord had been deprived of his limbs and most of his upper jaw, ironic given the wounds he inflicted on others. Yet, T'shere supposed it was fitting that he now resembled everything he had left in his wake. A tarnished piece of bloody meat.

This tyrant had been the source of so many atrocities and deaths, but now he looked like a pathetic shriveled thing.

To her disgust and horror though, Victus was still not dead. She could see his chest rising, albeit shallowly. Even with such irreparable damage to his ruined body, the Sith Lord clung to life a disease that refused to be extinguished.

T'shere looked at the abomination for a long time, wondering how she or Mysteel could have ever been so terrified of this wretch. Once he had held life or death over them, until Lucidae had intervened. Now their roles were reversed.

She knelt down and Victus turned his sightless gaze to look at her. When he saw who it was, Victus gave a queer clacking sound which sounded almost like a laugh. T'shere's eyes narrowed.

"So you do recognize me," she said grimly. Victus kept wheezing.

"Lucidae...he would want me to be merciful. A quick death. Force, he might even tell me to save your misbegotten hide."

The madman's expression changed. Even deprived of a jaw, she knew what that look meant.

It was contempt.

The female's expression hardened.

"I'm not feeling particularly merciful today."

Using both hands, T'shere dragged the heathen flesh thing towards a damaged vehicle. The fuel tank had ruptured and was exposed to show the volatile substance within. She grabbed the Weeper by his palsied skull and dunked his head into the murky liquid.

Victus thrashed weakly, but his efforts were more pathetic than dangerous. T'shere's face was filled with bitter determination as she went on the grim task of drowning the fiend. She kept him submerged for a long time. Long after the Sith Lord stopped thrashing, long after the last bubbles emerged.

And when Victus was finally dead, she kept him there some more.

* * *

When T'shere stood up, it felt like her body had become a hundred times lighter.

_It's over. _She thought with a tremor in her lips. _He's finally dead._

She could scarce believe it. After all these years of hiding, being afraid, she could say that Victus of the Reborn had been killed. A welter of emotion threatened to overcome her at that moment. She wanted to cry, cheer or laugh. But most importantly, she wanted to hug her sister so they could share in this joyous occasion.

With that in mind, she turned her head to the rest of her party and what she saw immediately put the frown back onto her face.

Many scouts knelt next the Jedi while Mysteel supported his head on her lap. She was covered in his blood from the waist up, trying to stem the blood depurating out of his many wounds. One of the scouts was administering first aid, and a series of drugs. As T'shere approached she could hear their frenzied discussion.

"By the Force, look at all this blood!"

"Give me another shot of atropine!"

"No, put alcohol on that wound first or he'll become septic!"

T'shere shoved her way through to look at the foolish Jedi and gave a slight hiss at what she saw.

_Force...You poor bastard..._

Revan was an utter mess. Pus and blood seeped out uncontrollably from his entire body. His face was almost unrecognizable, a morass of bloodied and torn meat. But, the most disturbing wound was where his eye used to be, a gaping hole spurting a miniature fountain of blood.

_Well he wanted a heroic death, _she mused. _Looks like he's going to get it._

While the Arkanian looked grim, Mysteel looked absolutely devastated. She was trying to bandage him as best as he could, but the wrapping was soaking faster than she could apply them.

"Force choke on Victus!" she hissed. "look what that bastard did to him,"

She looked frantically between her sister and Kynes, who had emerged from inspecting her own handiwork.

"We can't treat him with these supplies. We've got to get him back to HQ!"

T'shere said nothing for a moment, unsure of how to feel. The Jedi had been a source of frustration and conflict since the onset of this mission. While the Arkanian held the Jedi in contempt, it galvanized her to see him reduced to this deplorable state. And they might not have been friends but she could respect his prowess, if not his misguided attitude.

Actually, now that she thought about it, Revan had done them a huge favor by softening Victus up enough that they could deal the killing blow.

She turned to Kynes, who plainly looked dubious at Mysteel's plea. The sniper turned towards the commander and shook her head, indicating any further intervention on their part would be pointless.

T'shere knew her sister was in a delicate state right now, and wouldn't respond well to harsh facts. She had to deliver the news with tact.

Slowly, T'shere knelt at her sister's side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. In a soothing tone she whispered.

"Tails sweetie, it's over. He's not going to make it."

"No!" Mysteel shook her head adamantly, refusing to acknowledge the inevitable. "If we can get him to Lucidae, he-"

"Lucidae, won't be here for another day at least," replied T'shere solemly. "and even he couldn't heal this kind of damage."

"We have to try!" Her sister insisted. There was a shrill quality to her voice that worried the Arkanian. The events of the day had obviously unbalanced her. When Lucidae arrived, he would have to help soothe her inner turmoil, brought from the day's events.

The Twi'lek looked at her imploringly with her beautiful sapphire eyes.

"Sis please! Think about all the good he did for us. Is this how we repay our debts? By letting him die in agony?"

"He's not one of us," Put in Kynes calmly. In a somewhat gruesome caricature, the sniper held a bloody eyeball in one hand.

"and he could be the greatest thing since sliced bread, but it doesn't change the fact that he's bleeding out from massive internal and external trauma. We should just put him out of his misery,"

T'shere was grateful for her support. She didn't want to be the bad girl in her sister's eyes today. This was a day of rejoicing, not rebuke.

"We'll give him a burial at least. Find a decent place off world..."

Mysteel's eyes flashed with genuine anger this time.

"Dammit, I'm sick of both of you and your stupid member's only schtick!"

T'shere flinched at the words as Mysteel glared at her.

"Yes, he's probably going to kick the bucket! But if you just stand here idly, twiddling our thumbs, then you'll have let another Jedi die!"

T'shere felt like she had just been slapped. Mysteel pointed an accusing finger at them both.

"So if you two don't help me carry him back to base right now, I'm going to hate you both for the rest of my life!"

The harsh words stung the Arkanian more than she cared to admit. Mysteel had never been so angry or upfront with her before. Her first instinct was to retaliate in anger, but realized it wasn't conducive to the situation.

Everyone was looking at her now, wondering what her decision was. She took a steadying breath and finally nodded.

"Fine. Arctet, go back to the Mole and get the stretcher." The scout in training nodded and ran back.

Kynes shrugged at the decision but did not object. She glanced back at the rest of her scouts.

"The rest of you, secure the weapon."

Her idle subordinates saluted brusquely and left, leaving T'shere and Kynes standing awkwardly as Mysteel and the medics did everything in their power to keep Revan alive.


	20. Chapter 20 Chamber of Lies

_Lies. All Lies._

_-Revan_

* * *

_The cave stretched on forever._

_There was only ever one path, but that route would wind and stretch like a slithering snake. The Jedi had a natural affinity for direction, but after a dozen fists and turns, even he had no clue which way he was heading now. _

_The mouth had long since disappeared, but Revan never lacked for light. The walls were limed in a calm blue glow, although he could not pinpoint the source of the illumination. The Jedi could see elaborate runes engraved into the stone on either side though. They formed an infinitely complex weave which reminded him of the double helix pattern in an organism's DNA. Revan was learned in many alien cultures but the meaning behind the symbols was beyond him. _

_What confounded him the most however was not these runes, but the seemingly benign environment. The tunnel exuded a serene sense of calm, with a cool breeze blowing into his face, and a lilting note in his ears. And then there was the faint scent of incense. Not the cloying musk he sometimes found in the temple but something more akin to a refreshing sea air. _

_**So …what will it be this time? Trap ridden pressure plates? Flesh eating plants? Acid spitters?**_

_At first, the newly initiated Jedi Knight was cautious in his approach, thinking this trial involved some kind of gauntlet, where an unseen enemy would burst out from an unseen crevice at any time. But gradually, his muscles relaxed as it became apparent there was no imminent danger. _

_As pleasant as the scenery was, Revan found himself brooding as he walked on. He had hoped with his ascension to the rank of Jedi Knight, these incessant mind games would stop. But apparently his Master still saw fit to test him. _

_So far though, he was not impressed._

_Despite the apparent lack of danger, something niggled at the back of his mind. A sixth sense that told him not everything was not what it appeared to be. Like a word at the tip of his tongue, Revan just couldn't place it._

_**Am I awake? Why is this place so surreal?**_

_It did almost feel like walking in a dream, through a pleasant façade that hid an underlying truth. He wouldn't put it past the bastard to have drugged him into a coma like state._

_After what the Jedi estimated was at least an hour, the soft breeze that billowed through his face grew stronger, signalling that he was close to an air source. The mild sense of claustrophobia diminished as he sensed the walls growing wider._

_Then suddenly, Revan realized he was suddenly in an enclosed space, a cavern of some sort. One moment he was walking and then..._

_He blinked._

_**What?**_

_Turning around, Revan realized the tunnel he came from had disappeared too. In fact, the entire area had become pitch black. _

_The Jedi felt out of his element. What manner of place was this that could shift and change without his notice? An elaborate hologram perhaps? It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility but such parlor tricks seemed infantile. _

_Revan stood as still as a statue, as he felt something stare back at him from the black abyss. The scrutiny bore into the back of his head as surely as a drill-bit into his skull. The Jedi forced down his mounting sense of unease as the presence became stronger. _

"_Enough tricks," said Revan in the void, "show yourself"_

_**++As you wish,++**_

_Without warning, a glorious fountain of light erupted around him. It basked the entire area with the strength of a sun and reflected light in an infinite number of directions. Revan was almost blinded by the effect, his eyes struggling to comprehend what he saw in front of him. What he assumed was a cavern turned out to be a huge dome of mirrors. They formed an impossibly complex lattice of beams that struck the center of the room in a golden pillar. Within that pillar, a single entity emerged._

_Revan allowed himself to gasp. _

_The glowing form radiated power from every pore, a miniature sun made manifest. But most amazing of all, the newcomer had no face of which to speak. No, its appearance depended entirely on what facet of the image Revan chose to focus on, like peering at a beam of light broken apart by a prism. The image was a little girl laughing in whispery garden. She was a maiden singing a lullaby into the night. And then an elderly crone on the edge of weeping. _

_Just looking at the spectacle hurt his eyes as the very fabric of reality surrounding the presence rippled, never able to hold onto one aspect completely. At first, the Jedi felt threatened at the malleable form. But then, he focused on the eyes and relaxed._

_Those eyes..._

_The Jedi saw a kindness and a wisdom so deep that he was immediately humbled. Everything good and just was embodied in this living being and Revan felt a sudden urge to kneel at this awesome power, to show some sign of respect to an entity greater than him. _

_Before he could do anything though, the figure spoke. __**++Hello Revan.++**_

_He felt a shudder in his spine. The voice, like the body itself seemed to shift through a hundred different spectrums, ringing through his ears almost painfully. It shifted from honey and milk to something deep and resonant. _

"_Hello," replied Revan somewhat awkwardly. The situation was unfamiliar to him. He had no problems talking to aliens, but a glowing entity of pure energy was beyond the scope of his experience._

_"Who are you?" _

_**++I am everything the Jedi aspires to be...++**__ came the whispery answer. The Jedi mulled over her words. Jedi, above all else, aspired to become one with the Force. To achieve perfect harmony with the living energy that binded all things. Could this glowing shade have been a former Jedi, whose spirit had somehow sustained itself within this place, a former echo of glory from an age past? _

_Revan grew worried at the though. Had he somehow stumbled upon a burial site and desecrated it? _

_**If this is the bastard's idea of a sick joke, I'll kill him.**_

_The shifting form floated closer to the Jedi, its movements unthreatening. The maiden adopted a curious gaze as she approached._

_**++Do you now why you were brought here?++**_

_Revan nodded warily. "To be tested I assume." _

_**++Tested,++**__ echoed the apparition, sampling the word. __**++Indeed you are Revan. In ways you cannot possibly fathom.++**_

_The Jedi didn't know how to respond to that. He looked around, hoping to find some clue as to what to do next. Was he supposed to utter some syllable, some passphrase to begin the test? _

"_Then we do we begin?" He asked eventually, when nothing became apparent._

_**++We already have.++**__ Said the voice. Revan realized the mirrors in the room had gradually become more blurry while they talked. The images were constantly shifting with grey smoke, while a new reality within them began taking definition. Before he could inspect the change, the entity asked. _

_**++Tell me Revan, do you believe in destiny? That a person's thread is intermingled with the strands of others in an infinitely complex but pre-determined weave?++**_

"_Destiny?" Repeated Revan giving a snort. "No, destiny is a word that addled fools use when random events work in their favor. If someone stumbles upon lost riches or meets someone they want to spend their life with, they'll say it was destiny. But that person could just have easily stumbled into a monster's den instead of a treasure trove. Who said destiny had to be a good thing?"_

_**++So you decry fate.++**__ Said the figure solemnly. __**++But do the Jedi not covet knowledge of their own future by looking to their seers for guidance?++**_

"_What they see is a possibility. They can never truly know what will come to pass. The future is unwritten by choices yet unmade." Replied Revan confidently. "What one does here and now will determine the outcome of tomorrow. If fate is a fixed construct, I really see no point in living."_

_The spectre grew silent as she processed this information, as if storing it away for future use._

_**++But are the choices of one person not based on the situations that they find themselves in?++**__ she asked eventually._

_**++Can one not say that an individual will inevitably choose a certain course of action if there is no other recourse? That in itself can be considered destiny, a series of events driving to an inevitable conclusion.++ **_

"_People always have a choice," insisted the Jedi._

_**++Very well, let's put that theory to the test.++**_

"_...How?"_

_**++I want to bring you to an important event in time. There, you will have a chance to make a choice that will affect the future. What you decide will either save the Republic or condemn it to eternal darkness.++**_

"_No pressure then," said the Jedi flippantly. Now he knew this was a farce. Seers had enough trouble making sense of what they saw in the first place. None of them one had the ability to project the future for another's scrutiny. If this thing was going to show him something, it had to be an illusion, some technological trick. Revan didn't know what game his Master was playing at, sending him to this...curiosity, but decided to humor the spirit for now. _

"_Show me what you will, but don't think that a virtual reality with elaborate holograms will convince me of anything."_

_**++As you wish,++**__ The spectre waved a hand._

_The swirling glasses along the wall suddenly misted and a thick white fog engulfed the entire cavern. Revan felt a lurching sense of vertigo, like he was sailing through a great distance in a short amount of time. He looked around to try and get his bearings but all he saw was cloying smoke that drew tears. Instinctively he closed his eyes._

_After a few seconds, the sense of nausea receded and Revan dared to open them. _

_He was in a wide chamber...except it was no longer the cavern. The room was grey with a dim light overhead. Several hooded figures sat crossed-legged on elevated plush seats aligned in an oval pattern. Revan realized the place looked strangely similar to the council chambers on Coruscant or Dantooine, with its circular cavity ceiling and elaborate symbols covering the wall. Then there were the occupants themselves. _

_Those figures…they were…_

"_Jedi Masters." Said Revan in wonder._

_This was an august gathering indeed. The Jedi recognized many individuals of significant rank gathered in the antechamber, as he walked around to take inspect the new setting. Many of them had lent a helping hand during his training. Vandar with his green floppy ears, Dorak cool and reserved, Vrook with his typical scowl…_

_Actually, as Revan looked on, he realized all the Masters had forlorn expressions on their faces, as if a great weight hung on the their shoulders. Most of them looked older as well, with silver streaks or wrinkles the Jedi hadn't noticed before. _

_Not bad...Revan thought. They could have passed for future mimicries of the Masters, if not for the fact that their forms were locked in stasis. _

_Nothing in their environment moved, not the clouds in the windows, not the Masters, anything. It was if someone had literally pressed pause on this reality. _

"_You almost had me," Revan said sarcastically as he finished his perusal and walked back to the glowing spectre who remained hidden behind a pillar. "I would have took them for the real Masters, if not for the fact that they are bereft of any movement. It is a good trick at least, to simulate such likeness."_

_**++No, no trick.++**__ Replied the spirit softly. The Jedi tried to detect some deception in his tone but realized in mild surprise that the spirit was being completely earnest. _

_**++This is the future. What you see now is what will come to pass. And very soon as well. The Masters of the Jedi Order have convened to discuss a matter of utmost importance++**_

"_You don't say," said Revan. He was still doubtful, but found that he couldn't quite dismiss the other person's words as false. "And what are they meeting for?"_

_**++Their survival and by extension, the survival of the Jedi Order.++**_

_Revan eyes widened in surprise. "Their survival? Has the Order been at war?"_

_**++Worse, the entire Republic. The galaxy bleeds destruction and is on the verge of total civil collapse. Their Jedi's forces are defeated and most of the Republic's armies are in disarray.++**_

_Revan felt queasy at the statement._

"_How? Who could possibly accomplish this?"_

_**++As always, the greatest upheavals come from the Jedi's own ranks.++**_

"_You mean a traitor," spat Revan. To him, traitors were the lowest of the low. Those who had willingly forsaken their vows to Order and Republic._

_**++Yes. This person leads an unstoppable force. His resources are seemingly limitless, and the majority of his followers are fanatically devoted to his cause. Where most warmongers would rely solely on these advantages, this man also possesses ingenuity and poise. His armies are better trained and his tactics superior to any devised by the Republic's generals. At this stage in time, the traitor is poised to do what none of his predecessors have before. Destroy the Republic as you know it.++**_

"_And you're saying he's going to succeed?" Revan was aghast at his own words. "The Order has withstood countless trials. Surely the Jedi Masters have a plan to stop him?"_

_**++Of a sorts...In fact, why don't you listen to what they have to say?++**_

_She waved a hand and suddenly the figures stirred from their frozen state. Revan turned and began to listen intently._

_

* * *

_

"_My fellow Masters." Said Dorak in a solemn voice. We stand on the precept of annihilation. Our veteran ranks are severely depleted. Every day I receive reports of a new defeat, whole battalions captured or annihilated. The army is so desperate, I hear that the Senate is drafting an emergency bill, allowing certain planets to be conscripted into service. _

_He spread his hands in helpless supplication._

"_I suspect that within a week, the Admirals will be forced to concede defeat."_

_There was a general mutter of despair. It seemed many of the Masters were already resigned to the inevitable. Revan couldn't believe these were the same individuals he had learnt from. They seemed a pale caricatures of their former selves, lost and directionless._

"_There is still hope," said another Master hopefully, whose face was obscured by a dark hood. "Our student. She uses her Battle Meditation to bolster the ranks. Working tirelessly to ensure our men fight relentlessly with endless conviction. With enough men inspired to courage we can-"_

"_If you think that will stop the traitor, then you are more foolish than I had anticipated!" Snapped Vrook to the other Master, causing him to flinch. He turned and addressed his other peers._

"_They might die more bravely against such odds, but that is all they will do. Die. As much as I hate to admit it, the traitor was our best. He possesses one of the greatest strategic minds of our time, superior to any of our own allies. Deception after deception are woven into his plans. More often than not, our forces end up chasing their own tails, while his warriors pick us apart like a scrambling herd. And when our soldiers are exhausted and brought to their knees, the traitor brings down the hammer."_

_The dour Master gave a disgusted noise. "Let's forsake with frivolous trivialities and focus on the cold hard fact. Unless a miracle happens, he will bring the Order crashing over our heads."_

_Revan grimaced at those words. Vrook was dour at the best of times, but he also always spoke the truth. Still, it seemed unthinkable that the Order could be destroyed by anything, let alone one individual._

_Interestingly, the Jedi noticed how the Masters were careful not to utter the traitor's real name aloud, as if in fear that it would taint them somehow with its utterance._

"_How did it come to this?" Asked a Twi'lek sitting next to Vandar. He tugged wearily at one of his tentacles. Vandar himself looked hundred years older than what Revan remembered him, pale and haggard. _

"_This is unprecedented. How could one man bring our Order to its knees?"_

"_You must have been hiding under a rock Master for the past few decades." Snorted Vrook. _

"_Have you forgotten Exar Kun? Or the countless traitors before that? I assure you our Order was rife with rot and decay before this travesty. Only this time, the bastard will succeed."_

_"Your candor, as always Master Vrook is appreciated." Cut in another Master, a silver haired woman sitting next to him. "But the question is not whether the Order is venal and corrupt, it is how we can preserve it! Have we forgotten that the Order has endured for millennia untold?"_

_She slammed her hand on her oval chair, drawing looks of surprise. _

"_We cannot let the actions of one traitor undo everything our ancestors have strived to sustain! We must preserve the Order!"_

_Nobody dared to offer a rebuke. When she had everyone's undivided attention, her voice became strained, barely above a whisper._

"_I will not be known as part of the generation of Masters who failed. I will not…"_

"_And what exactly are we preserving?" Said another voice softly. All eyes turned to Vandar this time. Revan was surprised to see not just sadness but reproach in his eyes as well. "You want to preserve the Jedi legacy. But what honourable legacy can we claim to hold?"_

"_I'm not sure what you're insinuating Vandar," Replied the woman. She sounded defensive though, as if she knew exactly what the venerable Master was alluding to. Vandal raised his huge eyes to address the entire group of Masters._

"_In truth we all knew how traitor's crusade turn out the moment he left. Just as we all know that small steps corrupt. Which is why we tried so diligently to prevent him from leaving and finding the truth." _

_Vandar's droopy ears seemed to fall even lower as his massive head sank into his chest. He put a hand on his wrinkled face and sighed._

"_The chain reaction started when we opened the flood gates to this disaster. For all our supposed wisdom and our words of caution, we still managed to fall from grace. Our hubris and arrogance are responsible for this...this travesty. __I sometimes wonder how we ever deluded ourselves to walk the path of damnation." _

_The Master left the rest unsaid but his words brought gasps and voices of consternation. _

"_Don't pretend to deny it. You all know what I speak of." Said Vandar bitterly._

_Revan was equally surprised by the passion in the Master's words, although he had no idea what past sin Vandar was alluding to._

_Vandar, said Dorak sternly. "you above all should know that all we have done, we have done to preserve the glorious Republic."_

"_But at what cost?" The venerable Master asked sadly. _

"_Masters." Interrupted Dorak, raising a hand. "As much as we can berate ourselves for sins past, the point is now moot. We must focus on the issue at hand. Master Lestin, I believe you said you had news of great import that you had to share with us?"_

_The red hued Twi'lek nodded fractionally and stood up to address his fellow Masters. He spoke in his native tongue as he was wont to do._

"_Thank you Dorak. Masters. I do indeed bring important tidings. Good ones in fact." _

_His words brought looks of renewed interest._

"_Thank the Force for small favors then," said Vrook sourly. "And what news is this?"_

"_I have on this day talked extensively with two individuals that could turn the tide of the war." Zhar Lestin paused for a moment._

"_One is from the man with whom we speak of now."_

_There was another chorus of surprise._

"_The traitor contacted you?" Asked Vrook in disbelief. _

"_He did. On a private communications channel we all shared back when he was still under the Order's service."_

"_Why would he do that?"_

"_To offer a deal." Replied Zhar Lestin solemnly. "He proposes a trade of sorts. An exchange that will benefit us both."_

"_As if we can trust anything the traitor says!" Scoffed Vrook immediately. He looked at his fellow colleagues. "Any devil's bargain he proposes can only diminish us. I say we should not heed his poisoned words."_

_Zhar Lestin shrugged his shoulders. "Is there any harm in hearing them? Could it be any worse than the alternative? Annihilation?"_

_The other Masters looked towards each other, murmuring in agreement. Vrook saw the majority was against him and nodded grudgingly._

_"I withdraw my previous statement,"_

"_What does the traitor want?" asked Dorak curiously._

"_Simply put. He wants our most vital assets. The Battle Meditator, the Seer and the Guardian." _

_The Masters stared at him in disbelief before exploding into a flutter of noise._

"_Preposterous!" Exclaimed one of the Masters. "Why would we surrender the Battle Meditator? Her gift gives the legions faith. And faith is in short supply these days." _

"_And the Seer! The Seer is the only one who has anticipated the traitor's moves with any significant accuracy. Together they are the only ones preventing our defeat!" Said another._

_Many agreed with that assessment. _

"_Our defeat is already assured Master," replied Zhar Lestin solemnly when the noise has died down. "They are only delaying the inevitable."_

"_This is ridiculous," stated Vrook flatly. "Is he utterly mad? He must know there is nothing he could possibly offer which would convince us to surrender our last line of defence."_

"_How about an end to the war?"_

_Everyone became silent as soon as the Master uttered the words. _

"_I'm not sure I understand you Zhar." Said Dorak cautiously. "Are you saying he will withdraw his forces if we give him these…individuals?" _

"_In a sense... In exchange for their delivery, his forces will halt their current advances into the core worlds and leave them within our control. He will even cede vital planets already in his jurisdiction. Most important of all, he will leave Coruscant and the Jedi Order unmolested. The rest will remained occupied under his army's influence for an unspecified amount of time."_

_There was a lengthy moment of hushed whispers as the attendees absorbed this information._

"_And him?" asked Dorak dubiously. "Does the traitor have plans for governance? What will he be doing after the exchange is made?"_

"_The traitor…he only said that we would never hear from him again."_

_A long period of silence descended upon the chamber. Revan could hear soft breathing from every corner of the room. Everyone had the same question, but no one dared to break the delicate spell._

"_Why?" Asked the silver haired Master eventually. "Why would he concede complete victory when the deathblow is all but assured?"_

"_I cannot answer that Master." Replied Zhar Lestin. "The workings of his mind are unfathomable. I do believe however that he instigated this war, partly to push us onto the brink of desperation, so that we would have no choice but to accept his ultimatum."_

"_We cannot simply ferry these people away!" Said Vrook angrily. The Senate and those other paper pushers will lose what confidence remains in our ability to defend them. They will see it as cowardice, not noble sacrifice. Our credibility will be nonexistent." _

_Many of the Jedi muttered their agreement._

"_It is as good as the death to come." Agreed Dorak._

_Zhar Lestin nodded as if expecting this response._

"_The traitor knows that this exchange cannot be made through conventional means. While the Seer and Guardian can be moved without anyone being the wiser be, it would be virtually impossible to ferry away the Battle Meditator without instigating the Army's ire." _

_The Twi'lek features grew cunning._

"_But then...he explained an expedient method where we could funnel her away without invoking the suspicion of our allies."_

"_How?" Said Dorak._

"_In the form of an elaborate charade. He told us to form a strike group with her at the spear tip, along with some of our senior warriors and soldiers. We would deploy them to look like a surprise attack on our part."_

"_Go on," said one of the Jedi Masters curiously._

"_When the strike force initiates his attack, he will open a window of opportunity for them to penetrate his fleet unmolested. As the spear tip converges on his position, the traitor will lower his defences on his flagship and allow them to penetrate his inner sanctum. The attackers will think they have the element of surprise...but once they are aboard, he will close the gauntlet. And then... well if the traitor can be believed, the war ends." _

_Silence._

"_Interesting..." said Dorak eventually. "There is merit to that plan. It would take some persuasion on the army's side to part with their 'crutch', but we could convince them to launch a raid. And if the traitor disappears, the Republic army will think we staged a successful operation at the cost of some Jedi lives. The fallout could be minimized." _

_His expression brightened as the plan began to congeal._

"_It would have to be staged convincingly though. We must contribute enough warriors in order to alleviate suspicion..."_

_He looked up, seeing approval in the other's faces. Master Vrook nodded and spoke. _

"_I agree. But we would need assurances. Some form of good faith that he would hold up-"_

"_Masters, have you lost your senses?" interrupted Vandar in an anguished voice. He alone seemed opposed to this idea of sacrifice, which worried Revan even more. How could the Masters be so quick to jettison their own kind out the airlock?_

"_Overlooking the fact that we are considering betraying our own kind, she is not even a fully fledged Jedi Knight yet! Not combat tested in the slightest! Anyone in the Order and Army could see that sending an initiate in command of a strike force would be idiotic. "_

"_An acceptable oversight." Said Vrook brusquely. "Everyone can see that our resources are stretched thin."_

"_Why don't you send yourself to the raid then Vrook?" Vandar said acidly. "Add some credibility to this farce!"_

_The two Masters glowered at each other before another voice interrupted._

"_As much as it pains me to disagree with you Vrook, Vandar has a point." said the silver lady curtly. Everyone looked at her curiously._

"_Allow me to remind you all of a fundamental problem with this plan. __**Traitors lie**__. He shows us one hand and takes with the other. Only a moron would believe he would stop his rampage after taking our trump cards. This is obviously a mocking attempt to get us to surrender our forces."_

"_I disagree Master." Said Zhar Lestin. "I know we have all been deceived by his intentions before…but when we spoke, I could hear the truth in the traitor's words." _

_Everyone looked like he was crazy to put truth and traitor in the same sentence. He held up his hands in concession. _

"_You are all right to doubt of course…it would be foolish to trust the traitor based on a feeling."_

_Vrook and the other Masters deflated somewhat at this setback, but Dorak remained upright._

"_You mentioned that you talked to two people" he said pointedly. _

"_Very astute Master," said the Twi'lek, smiling slightly. "I did indeed."_

"_Who was this other person?"_

"_Someone I believe who can provide an alternate solution." Replied Zhar Lestin quietly. He turned back to the rest of the audience._

"_I have received a...counter offer of sorts from one of the traitor's subordinates. A captain named Saul. This man holds significant influence among many of the traitor Jedi, though not with the leader himself. Apparently he has caught wind of his superior's intentions to halt their advances and is discontent… as are many others of the commanders and heretics."_

_The Master listened with renewed interest as the Twi'lek continued._

"_They want to continue this war and see it to its rightful conclusion. And to that effect…he is willing to help us dispose of our mutual enemy."_

_The Jedi Master's expressions turned suspicious as understanding took them._

"_And you are saying that this…Saul is willing to kill the traitor for us?" Said Dorak incredulously, shaking his head._

_"What could he possibly gain? I find it hard to believe he does this for altruistic reasons, having swept to the banner of the traitor so willingly._

"_No, his motives are purely self serving. Saul like us, is fearful of traitor's true motives. He does not know where he will fall into the grand scheme of things. But with his immediate superior removed, he will be free to pursue his agenda with more…like minded individuals." _

_Zhar Lestin looked around, catching each Master in the eye._

"_The good captain is no fool. He knows neither side will be satisfied with the status quo the traitor wants to impose. But with their current leader dead…the war definitely will go on to a natural conclusion. Within the void of leadership Saul will have a new chance for personal advancement." _

"_I'm overjoyed for his ambition." Said Vrook sarcastically. "But how does continuing the war become an advantage for us?" _

_Zhar Lestin gave him a long suffering look._

"_Think Masters. We all know the traitor is the lynchpin to their success. His brilliance, his knowledge of war is what brings them victories, not his forces. Furthermore, the traitor's death will cause much dissension among his most fervent supporters and the momentum will shift. That means our forces will have a fighting chance. The captain knows this. But he is willing to 'roll the dice' as it were if it gives him more power." _

_The Twi'lek shrugged his shoulders._

"_Perhaps under the new command, the Republic will fall, perhaps not. But at least it will give us a chance to bring a more…favorable outcome than the one the traitor forces upon us._

"_Interesting," said Dorak slowly, rubbing his chin. "And how does he propose we accomplish this...removal?"_

"_Simple. The captain urges us to do as the traitor bid. We send the Battle Meditator to raid his flagship as the heretic expects. Once the team boards the flagship, the traitor will be distracted, temporarily occupied with overwhelming his quarry. In that moment, Saul and the other traitor Jedi under his influence will tell their forces to open fire at his position. With his shields and defences down, their deaths are all but guaranteed."_

"_So...the trade in actuality becomes... an assassination." Said Vrook eventually. The Master gave a tight smile as he processed the scenario. "But instead of losing three valuable assets, we would only lose one. It sounds like a good tradeoff indeed." _

_He looked to the others. "The irony notwithstanding, this plan has merit. It should be put to the vote."_

_The other Masters looked at each other under their shadowed cowls and nodded._

_Only Vandar opposed to the idea, shaking his head in shame._

"_Masters, I implore you to reconsider. Have we become as debased as the traitors we fight? Do we have to resort to scheming and backstabbing to bring salvation?"_

"_Don't exaggerate Master." Snapped Vrook. "We all know the underbelly of Jedi history is dirty and filled with questionable acts. But they have all been done for the betterment of the Republic. What we do now is no different,"_

_Others gave ascending noises._

"_The end justifies the means," agreed Zhar Lestin. "Yes, what we do is condemnable in normal circumstances, but these are decidedly not normal circumstances. The Order must survive."_

"_It survives only in name," said Vandar bitterly. "If this is the only solution we can think of to our problems, then I pity the future of our Order."_

_His words went unheeded though as the Master raised their hands swiftly to ratify the dangerous plan. Vandar looked up the, and in that moment Revan thought the Master actually noticed him. But then the image froze. The Master's eternally sad eyes continued to bore into him, with so much left unsaid._

_

* * *

_

_Revan turned away._

"_Enough of this," he said in disgust. "End this now."_

_Mercifully the world around them became intangible and suddenly, the room was dark again._

_The Jedi was silent for a long time, eyes close and fists clenched in anger. His brain could not comprehend the magnitude of what he had just seen. Murder, deceit and betrayal from the Masters? They would sooner spit on the graves of their ancestors. _

_**Lies. All lies.**_

_When Revan opened his eyes again, he saw the floating spectre observing him silently._

"_These things you show me." Revan said in a threatening tone,_

"_It angers me beyond words for descriptions! That you would parade these...these illusions of the Masters acting with such low honor, it insults the values which the Republic stands for!"_

_He pointed an accusing finger at the harbinger of the dark future._

"_Assassination? Betrayal? Master Vrook might be a downright pain in the ass, but he would never lower himself to such levels." He took a menacing step forward. "These are not the tenets on which the Jedi Order is built on!" _

_The shifting apparition looked at him sadly, adopting the meign of the weeping old woman._

_**++You are blinded Revan, by your devotion to the Jedi's virtues. These standards of honor you cling to so blindly have no meaning in such a hopeless situation. The Masters are desperate. Their primary objective is and always has been to ensure the Order's survival. In that way, they are loyal to the Jedi cause. As underhanded as their methods are, they only do it to serve the greater good. So they can achieve the only viable outcome.++**_

_Revan gave a bitter bark of laughter. Is that why you showed this farce to me? To prove that under the proper circumstances, a choice is no choice at all? Is this what you meant by manifest destiny?_

_**++I wanted to give you context on the objective at hand. You need to make a choice, but it would be no choice at all if you did not have all the facts. As I said, the decision you make carries potentially dire ramifications.++**_

_Without waiting for a warning, the specter asked. __**++Tell me Revan. Are you loyal?++**_

"_I am." Revan replied without hesitation. "To the Jedi's tenets and to the preservation of peace in the galaxy." _

_**++But to what extent? What would you sacrifice to preserve the integrity of the Republic? Would you do anything to ensure that the Order survives?++**_

"_I-" Revan paused, momentarily confounded. "Yes. But not...not like this. I would not choose to do this. These people you just showed me. They are not my Masters. They have no honor."_

_She shook her head. _

_**++Truth and honor always depends on a certain point of view. If I told you that the traitor's destruction would indeed mean the entire Republic's survival, is that not a small price to pay? What is a handful of lives compared to the countless trillions?++ **_

_Revan didn't reply, uncertain where the other was going with this line of questioning._

_**++Try to put yourself in the position of the Masters. They make decisions that affect the very fabric of the galaxy as well as all their inhabitants. And now, they have a chance to pull out the source of the cancer that plagues the realm they defend. When viewed from their perspective, do your precious morals not seem selfish in the grand scheme of things?++**_

_She floated closer and locked his attention with those infinitely deep eyes._

_**++If you had the traitor ready for execution, could you really stay your hand?++ **_

"_I don't know." Revan admitted. His fists unclenched slightly._

_**++Well...you will have a chance to find out.++**__ The images around him began to swirl again in shifting smoke._

"_What do you mean?" Asked Revan cautiously. "Where are you taking me?"_

_**++To kill the traitor.++**_

_Revan opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. He turned around as he became aware that someone else was watching him._


	21. Chapter 21 Thalia

_We all have our secrets._

_-Revan_

* * *

As he gained consciousness, Revan realized he couldn't feel any pain. In fact he could barely feel anything at all. When the Jedi tried to move his arms, the effort was useless and draining. His entire body felt like a bloated piece of meat, sluggish and unresponsive.

_This must be how a Hutt feels like_.

The air was heavy with the smell of antiseptic, making him feel nauseous. But more pressing was the feeling of trepidation.

_Where...where am I? How did I get here?_

His weary mind tried to process the situation. He remembered the fight with Victus and his defeat. Most vividly, he remembered being beaten into a pulp. And his eye…

Blinking rapidly, Revan found to his dismay that he had not dreamt that part. Half of his vision was still a black gaping hole. He grimaced at the loss, but did not grieve for it. Wounds like these were a natural part of his station. He had heard of other warriors having whole appendages severed during the heat of battle. All said and done, he was extremely lucky to be alive.

That in itself was somewhat of a miracle. With his horrific injuries, Revan had fully expected to perish, aid or not. Then again, he was extremely hard to kill as Alek liked to joke. His name was a testament to that fact.

But the most important question remained. Where was he?

Blearily, Revan looked around, forcing his one good eye to focus on his surroundings. He realized why it was so hard to move. Everything below his neck was heavily bandaged and casted, with tubes snaking out from either side of his body. By the look of them, some of the tubes were delivering nutritional supplements into his ravaged body while others were removing internal waste.

His foggy vision turned to the yellow walls where a table piled with surgical equipment caught his attention. Leaning next to it, was a gunmetal grey droid, hanging limply to one side. Revan noticed its hands were an amalgamation of syringes, knives and needle thin metal digits.

_A…a surgical droid?_

The Jedi found the equipment foreign to him, yet something about the room felt strangely familiar.

_This cot...the door._

He had been in here before. In fact, it was the same room he had talked with Mysteel in. As his drug addled-mind processed the thought, Revan realized he was back at his former companion's base.

_It can't be._

A squeal at the corner of the room erased his doubts. Mysteel's little sister was here with him, apparently unsupervised. She was sitting with her back to him, next to a heap of bolts, tweezers and springs, happily unscrewing the lid off of what looked like a communications box set. When she got it off, the infant started stripping out the wires enthusiastically, although whether the Twi'lek was actually fixing the device or simply making a mess, he couldn't say.

While staring at the child at her play, a thought struck him.

_They came back for me. _

Revan realized he found the thought extremely surprising. He could count very few people to trust on and the Jedi doubted T'shere saved him for his amiable company. Still, the thought of the Arkanian bursting out at the last moment to sweep him away from the brink of death like a guardian angel drew a ragged chuckle from his lips.

"Awake are we?" Said a lilting female voice.

Revan was startled by the noise, thinking he was alone with the child. But then again, his vision wasn't what it used to be. The Jedi tried to twist his head at the source of the sound but to no avail. Revan sighed. Bundled so tightly, he couldn't even lift a finger.

The speaker appeared over at his side and Revan looked up.

It was a Rutian female, watching over him with a caring expression. The woman possessed striking cheekbones with a slightly freckled face and dark piercing eyes. Based on her matronly tone, Revan judged her to be about thirty to forty in age although her smooth skin was unlined and healthy looking. She was quite attractive if truth be told but he almost expected that of any female Twi'lek by now.

Revan was sure he had never seen this person before but something about her face seemed familiar. At the moment, his stilted thought process couldn't quite say why.

The Twi'lek reached out for his head, examining something.

"Hmmm, your wound heals cleanly. That is good. For awhile, Lucidae thought you might become sceptic."

"Who...who," croaked Revan. His voice sounded a hundred years older, weakened by disuse. The Jedi struggled to raise his hands, but they were gently pressed back.

"Shhh, try not to move Revan," said the female kindly. "We don't want your stitches to rip open. You've sustained a lot of trauma. Not to mention broken bones, torn ligaments, massive blood loss... It induced ventricular tachycardia. Victus was not kind I am afraid."

"Victus..." he whispered hoarsely. The mention of his tormentor got his blood pumping. "Is he?"

"Dead." She said reassuringly. "And burned to ash. I could scarce believe it when I heard the news. Truly it is a burden off all our hearts."

Revan fell back onto his cot, relaxing fractionally. His head still throbbed painfully despite the mind-numbing chemicals coursing through his body. The Twi'lek gave him an appraising look.

"I'm surprised you're awake already. It's only been two days and you were heavily medicated during the operations. But then again, I've noticed Jedi recover exponentially faster than the average humanoid."

The Jedi simply nodded, too weary to dispute the point.

"You're still under heavy anaesthetic right now, so your body may be out of sorts for a time. Just tell me, how do you feel?"

Revan wet his lips and spoke with a stronger voice.

"Like...like I just went ten rounds with a Rancor. Then the Rancor won and had its way with me."

The woman gave a chuckle.

"I see you've inherited Mysteel's sense of humor. I've always found it a bit off kilter, but if a Jedi likes it then..."

At the mention of Mysteel's name, he realized their laugh sounded suspiciously similar. And then there was her uncanny resemblance to the child in the corner of the room. He finally realized who he was talking to.

"You're...you're the mother..."

"The mother." Echoed the Twi'lek. "How quaint. And I thought you had a way with words." There was a teasing quality in her voice which took the sting away from her accusation. Revan managed a smile.

"Forgive me…But my wits have literally been leaking out of my skull. And probably through my ears."

This time the Twi'lek laughed.

"Indeed," she said eventually. "Well in any case, you are correct. I am 'the mother' as you say. But that's the name I use on my birthday. I have another one for regular occasions."

"Will you tell it to me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought Mysteel would have mentioned it to you by now."

"One of your daughters...is a bit paranoid to say the least."

"Ah, you mean T'shere." She nodded. "Yes she was always the bitter one, the least trusting. It was something I had hoped to wean out of the girl when I took her in."

The Twi'lek looked sad as she said this. Eventually she shook her head and said.

"But to answer you're question. I am Thalia. Thalia Vao. And I am the mother of the three misfits, scurrying around here."

The Twi'lek winked conspiratorially at him. "Between you and me, those three girls have shaven decades off of my life with worry,"

A giggle from the back of the room caught Revan's attention. He looked past Thalia's shoulder to see who it was. Standing behind Thalia was Mysteel, with her bright smile. Somehow, she had managed to sneak into the room without their notice.

"Oh mother. Surely we're not that bad."

When Thalia turned, the younger Twi'lek put her mother into a bone crunching hug, laughing all the while.

Thalia gasped out a chuckle, as she fended off her daughter's enthusiastic grasp. "Mysteel! You'll crush me to death with those arms of yours!"

Eventually the younger Twi'lek let go. "Sorry mom," said Mysteel in a teasing tone. "I guess I'm just jealous that's all,"

"Why would you be jealous of me my little golden nugget?"

"Why?" Mysteel scolded. "I leave for one second, and you're already fussing over him and talking up a storm. Nothing good can come from that."

Thalia seemed bemused by her daughter's overreaction.

"We were just talking dear."

Mysteel responded with a long pouty look.

"Oh sure, it starts with friendly conversation but soon you'll be complimenting each other's appearance. Then you'll be offering him drinks and some 'pie'. And before you know it, you'll be eating each other's 'pies' and waking up with nothing but your socks on."

Revan could only stare on in disbelief while Thalia laughed aloud.

"Mysteel, you're such a tease. You know Jedi don't engage in such frivolous acts. And he would never be interested at an old codger like me."

The daughter's expression became impish.

"Mother, you know as well as I do when guys look your way, they're waving with more than just their hand."

"Mysteel! Really, the mouth on you."

The two females shared another good laugh then at Revan's expense. Eventually Mysteel turned her attention back to the Jedi. She leaned in front of his bandaged face with her gleaming smile.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" She asked sweetly.

For the first time since he had landed on this blighted world, Revan's expression mimicked her own.

* * *

The next few days saw the Jedi bedridden as he recovered from his grievous wounds. Thalia insisted he remained in the room and immobile so his stitches were given time to close. The two females even offered to help him with his daily necessities while he recovered. Revan let them replace his bandages but he flat out refused to let them feed, bathe or change him. Mysteel's reaction was appropriately extreme.

"You're crazy!" She exclaimed when he rebuked them "Do you know how many guys dream of having two gorgeous Twi'leks heeding his every beck and call? Live the dream Revan!"

The Jedi politely declined.

So for what seemed like an eternity, Revan was confined in his tiny cell. The Jedi wouldn't have minded that so much if not for the fact that he was never alone. To his chagrin, Mysteel and her mother constantly fussed over him like den mothers. And when they were not treating him like a toddler, they chatted with each other incessantly for hours on end, their conversations punctuated with giggles ever few sentences. It was enough to make Revan wish he was comatose again.

Mercifully though, Mysteel would eventually wander off to attend various duties so it was left for Thalia to keep him company. The female had practically moved in with him, placing various ornaments, medical equipment and basic utilities within the chamber. Although no-one would ever dare to say it, Thalia had become his unofficial nurse.

As such, Revan saw her almost all the time as she went about her duties. The Twi'lek seemed to have a knack for almost anything. She cooked, helped clean a myriad of clothing, played with her infant daughter and spent many hours tinkering with the beat-up droid and the other miscellaneous bits of machinery in the room. Sometimes she even let the infant fiddle around with the droid's head. The Jedi had a sneaking suspicion that the droid was responsible for his recuperation and seeing a child play with its processor did nothing to diminish Revan's concerns of being operated by it.

Surprisingly, the Rutian proved to be a very amiable host when not trying to coddle him, talking about everything and nothing. She regaled him with stories about different wonders and cultures in the galaxy. Subjects like the Amodeus Asteroid Cluster_, _the sandworms lurking under the desert plains of Tatooine, Wookie mating rituals…Thalia was a veritable encyclopedia of random information.

With her knowledge, Revan got the impression she had traveled far and wide, although Thalia never mentioned how she managed to move around so freely.

He had a few other visitors at that time he recuperated. Chiefly members from the mission asking about his health. Arctet mustered up the courage to show up and give him a pat and smile, thanking him for his help on the mission. Even Kynes came up once, although Revan only saw her observing him neutrally through the door slit. T'shere was the only person who didn't deign to show her face around.

One night, Revan asked Mysteel why Arctet and the rest of the soldiers seemed so indecently happy to see him. She laughed.

"Isn't it obvious? You helped us get rid of Victus! That bastard is dead and burned. You don't know how long we've been gunning for him. And everyone thinks you're a badass for taking his lackeys down."

"You're sister seems to think otherwise."

"Oh right. Well she's says she's mad because we lost our only lead back to the Cult."

Mysteel gave him a playful wink.

"Honestly though, she's just jealous because everyone thinks you did an awesome job. Don't worry she'll come around."

Thalia later confirmed his theory that the battered droid had been his surgeon. She explained when he was comatose, the rackety old heap of metal had done very complex and risky procedures on him, such as multiple defibrillations, resetting his broken bones, grafting synthetic skin onto his body and re-knitting ruined muscles.

At first, Revan was skeptical that such a broken piece of scrap metal could ever accomplish such complicated feats but Thalia alleviated those fears.

"Oh don't worry, that droid might look like he was cobbled up of spare parts from my child's toy box, but it's a very good surgeon. It was actually on active field duty for the Army a few decades ago."

"Decades?" echoed Revan doubtfully.

"Yes." Said Thalia, ignoring his tone. "Our friend's memory banks contains practically every surgical procedure documented for a humanoid species. It had such a high success rate that the soldiers started calling it the 'Flesh Smith'."

The macabre name hardly alleviated Revan's fears as Thalia continued talking.

"Let me assure you, is a very coveted asset within our little organization. I have no doubt that without its help, our casualty list would be a lot higher now."

It was these words that made Revan realize that this paltry group had utilized a great deal of their resources in order to save him from certain death. He immediately felt humbled knowing that.

"Thank you," he said suddenly. "For….for everything,"

Thalia smiled. "Don't thank me yet Revan because not done. We saved the most important operation for last."

"What do you mean?"

By way of answer, Thalia produced a jar from the table filled with amniotic fluid. The Jedi peered into it and his expression became surprised. Suspended within it was his missing eye.

Thalia smiled at his reaction. "Look familiar?"

"The droid can re-attach it?" asked Revan, daring to hope. He never thought he would see from the injured side of his face again.

"Oh yes. We needed to wait a few days for the optic nerves to regenerate in amniotic fluid, but it should be ready now. I should warn you though that the subroutine for this operation is particularly tricky and error prone."

At Revan's worried expression, Thalia gave him a reassuring smile.

"Oh don't worry. My little daughter and I have been refining the code to make sure there will be no mishaps. More her than me though."

Thalia finished with a chuckle. Revan couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

* * *

When the time came when the droid was ready to re-insert the eye, Thalia came up to Revan who was sitting on his bed-turned-makeshift surgical table. She was holding a needle.

"Okay. The droid will drill away the broken flakes of your eye socket and cut away the dead nerves, then stimulate the remaining ones. Once the retinal blood vessels begin pumping fluid, he'll take your eye and re-knit the optic nerves. If that works, we'll re-cement your bone cavities and apply synth-skin around the flesh, which will eventually bond to your facial structure. With me so far?"

When Revan nodded, Thalia gave him an appraising look. "Are you ready?"

"I am," said Revan, leaning back on the surgical table.

"Good. But first, I'll need to put you under," said Thalia, raising the needle.

The Jedi shook his head.

"No, I'll stay awake for this. I'm sick onto death with sleeping," he said.

Thalia was taken back. "There will be pain Revan."

"I'll scream,"

"An excruciating amount of pain,"

"I'll scream very loudly," replied the Jedi dryly. "Just keep my mind occupied."

Thalia stared at him for a long moment and shrugged. "Well, I suppose you have the choice. It won't be pleasant though."

The Twi'lek walked back to the tray of surgical equipment and took another needle. She opened the wrapping on the left ruin of his face and injected the contents. Revan immediately felt the entire section become numb. When Thalia was satisfied, she nodded to her side. The gunmetal machine clanked forward, his surgical arm poised over the Jedi's tender flesh. Slowly, the needle like appendages lowered and started filleting his skin with delicate movements.

* * *

The droid continued with his work for over an hour, eliciting a pained gasp here and there. Thalia distracted him from the worst of it by talking about her past. At one point, they got to discussing her childhood.

"You grew up on Ryloth I assume?" asked Revan between grunts, as the droid was drilling into his skull. Even with the anesthetic, he could feel the sharp metal piercing through flesh and bone.

"Oh yes. Have you ever been there Revan?" asked Thalia, as she dabbed at his face to keep the blood from soaking into his other eye.

"Not to my knowledge"

Thalia laughed. "a curious answer. If you've been there though you would remember it. It is a planet of contradictions and singular beauty."

"How so?"

"Ryloth's rotation is skewed. One side perpetually faces the sun while the other shies away. As a result, most of the planet is largely uninhabitable, marred by its extreme environments. A planet of rock, ice and desert. The only place one may find succour is where the Brightlands and Nightlands kiss. I myself lived in the underground city of Kala'uun. Near the Lonely Five mountain range."

Revan grunted in acknowledgement as the droid extracted pieces of bone fragments with delicate but precise movements and passed them to his aide. Thalia took the debris and tossed them onto a metal plate, talking all the while.

"Like many of the planets in the Outer Rim, Ryloth is largely lawless, but rife with organized crime. Many unsavoury activities such as slavery and prostitution are active coinage on my homeworld. As most races have discovered, female Twi'leks make good slaves."

Thalia said this nonchantly, as if it was simply a fact she had accepted. Revan remained silent while she talked, feeling tiny electrical impulses shuddering down his socket as the droid tried to stimulate damaged nerve regeneration through the hole it drilled.

"It is nowhere near as bad as this planet though. Darith has a rot I have not seen in all my travels throughout the galaxy. Every time I think of this place, I thank the Force Lucidae came to bring my salvation."

Revan shifted his head slightly, causing the droid to issue a static feedback error. "I've heard you mention that name. Who is he?"

Thalia gave him a puzzled look while tilting his head back.

"Lucidae, T'shere and Mysteel's mentor. A former Master of your Order."

"Never heard of him,"

She gave a soft laugh.

"My daughters kept you in the dark about their own Master? My."

Thalia handed the droid another needle.

"Lucidae was the one who saved you from certain death."

"I thought our friend here did that."

"He was part of it yes. But Lucidae provided the anchor to your mind, making sure your brain did not expire from trauma before our good friend here could mend your body. I suspect his healing abilities also accelerated your recovery."

Revan said nothing but inwardly he frowned as understanding came back to him. The Jedi thought back to his deathlike state, when he had dreamed the trial all over again. He had relived that scene many times but it was only in the most recent episode where he had sensed someone else' scrutiny. It seemed that Lucidae had intruded on his thoughts while their minds were joined.

_How much did he see?_

Thalia interrupted his thoughts.

"Haven't you wondered how my two daughters are so proficient in battle? Or how they acquired their lightsabers?"

"I tried to ask Mysteel about their Master, but her sister forbade it."

"Well your curiosity will be appeased. Lucidae wants to see you."

"When?"

"Soon enough. When you are feeling better."

Revan shrugged, as Thalia continued to assist the droid.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes, Ryloth. I belonged to a large family. Like many of our kind though, I was born into poverty. My father was a mechanic who maintained a cluster of hydroponics bays within the city. It was an honest trade, but he earned a pittance. And with so many mouths to feed we had to resort to...alternate forms of employment."

Revan knew where this was going but chose not to comment. Thalia stopped dabbing his face long enough to hand the droid his eye.

"I had an uncle who was shall we say...less than reputable. He belonged to a major establishment of organized crime. A thieves guild if you will. As you know, thievery comes naturally to Twi'leks, even more so to females because we are so dexterous."

Thalia gave a slight sigh as the droid uncorked the jar and unceremoniously extracted the organ.

"Well, my father didn't like it, but when I was six years old, my uncle me inducted into their fraternity. "

Revan raised his eyebrows. Even by Twi'lek standards, recruiting someone at such young age for thieving seemed wrong. Thalia noticed his disapproval.

"I know what you're thinking Revan, and you're right. I was raised by many questionable individuals. But you must understand that we lived in desperate situations. On Ryloth, you do what you have to to survive."

"I understand," The Jedi could hardly judge her childhood based on his own. Or at least what he thought was his own. Thalia paused momentarily while the droid to re-inserted the orb with deft metal fingers. It went in with a squelching noise.

"How did this...guild function?" asked Revan between muffled gasps.

"Much like a business really. The rules were simple. Everything you stole, you kept while a weekly 'tithe' would be returned to the guild to ensure you performed your duties. In return, they provided equipment, shelter and connections. There was no formal hierarchy so to speak. Only specialties whereby a member would be fitted according to their strengths. "

"What sort of specialties?" asked Revan in interest, only partially aware that the droid was knitting his nerves back into place.

"Well there were the Collectors, who went about getting protection money. Enforcers were the muscle. Whisperers traded secrets. I started off as a Grifter."

"Grifter?" echoed Revan.

"Yes, a con artist," explained Thalia. "We specialized in deception. Petty theft, fixing games, scams…that sort of thing. One of our favourite scams was called 'Playing Sick', which was very effective against offworlders."

Revan saw her smile slightly.

"To pull the operation off, we needed two Grifters. One of us would dress as a filthy urchin, usually me. And I would use makeup to look dreadfully sick, painting myself a completely different color to avoid recognition."

Revan's expression became bemused. It seemed Mysteel probably had gotten her love of disguises from Thalia.

"We would find a relatively busy city block. And then I would pretend to faint in a suitably dramatic fashion. When everyone was gasping and making a commotion, the other Grifter would rush to my aid and cry something out."

Thalia started mimicking different accents.

"_My word! This poor thing has the Rutian plague!_"

"_The…what?_" .

"_The plague! It only effects the children. It starts off as a cough first…_".

The Twi'lek finished her demonstration with a laugh.

"My partner would go into gory detail about how the disease progresses, usually involving vomiting blood and the intestines rotting until the poor victim drowned in their own excrement. When he was finished and the crowd was suitably horrified, we didn't even have to ask for money. They'd be begging to help me."

Revan had an amused smile of his own by then. "Let me guess," he said. "The Grifter would tell them he'd take you to the hospital but needed money to cover the 'costs'."

Thalia chuckled. "Exactly. The more naïve they were, the higher the amount my partner asked for. More often than not, we walked away with enough credits to make any Grifter proud. But that was one of many lucrative scams. In my first years, I had collected more money than many members made in a decade."

"You must have been very good at deception then," noted Revan. He grunted as he felt a particularly sharp poke by the droid's metallic fingers as it sewed micro filaments into his skin,

"I was," said Thalia. "If circumstances were different, I fancied I could have become an actress."

Revan chuckled.

"I can't imagine you remained a small time crook for long," he said eventually. Someone of your skills must have garnered attention within the guild."

Thalia nodded.

"Oh yes. I dallied in different specialties for awhile, but when I was about sixteen, I was promoted to the rank of Haunter. It was considered to be a great privilege to be chosen for this role because it meant your skills were considered among the elite."

"You don't sound particularly proud of that," Revan noticed. Thalia seemed to be getting sadder as she recounted her experiences.

"I was. I'm just getting a little nostalgic, that's all," said Thalia quietly. She held down pieces of synthetic skin on his face while the droid stitched them into place with his mandible-like fingers.

"Don't get me wrong Revan. I knew what we did was highly illegal, but I couldn't deny there was a certain thrill to the chase. And even though it happened so long ago, I can still remember my time as a Haunter like it was yesterday,"

There was a momentarily silence as the Jedi processed this information, the only sound being the buzzing of the droid's arm.

"And what sort of activities did 'Haunters' engage in?" he asked eventually.

"The Haunters were kind of like the elite boogeymen in our fraternity. They dealt with more serious types of missions for the guild such as espionage, sabotage and assassinations.

At the mention of assassination, Revan's gaze became hard. Seeing his hostile expression, Thalia quickly added.

"Don't worry Revan. All of our targets were other black market competitors. Scumbags who would sell their own mothers to make quick credits. No innocent bystanders ever got entangled within our activities and I never shed a tear for anyone I killed."

Revan relaxed slightly, although he was still uncomfortable where the discussion was heading. Who knew such an innocent and kind looking women could have such a dark history?

_We all have our secrets_ he mused.

"There was also something unique about the Haunter position. Whereas most of our competitors knew there were hordes of Grifters or Enforcers roaming the streets, they all thought the Haunter was only one person."

"And why is that?" Revan realized he had started to retain sensation in the left side of his head as the surgeon started test firing his neural synapses. He felt his left eyebrow twitch up and down although he still could not see anything from the orb.

Thalia gave him a coy look. "Do you want to guess?"

"You were never seen?"

"No, we were often reported on media outlets and many more bystanders had caught images of a Haunter. Guess again."

"Only one of you operated at a time?"

"Actually, there were times when whole teams of us would be deployed on the same mission."

She gave the Jedi a teasing look.

"Think Revan. How could so many of us be together but be mistaken for each other at the same time?"

Revan felt exasperated, not knowing what she was possibly insinuating. Then he noticed her eyes flicker to an object standing on one of her shelves. His eyes traveled to her line of sight.

_A Mask_.

It was an unremarkable thing really, black and featureless. The only distinguishable characteristic being the two ruby eyepieces set upon each socket. Seeing Revan's understanding, Thalia smiled.

"Ironic isn't it, that a simple tool can be so useful in deception? Many people wear masks for protection or to signify a particular allegiance such as the Mandalorians. But few use it for a more fundamental purpose. Concealment of your identity. It still surprises me that we managed to keep up the charade for so long"

"All because all of you wore the same mask?"

"That was part of it yes. We also dressed exactly the same way. Black mask, black boots and matching gloves. Our heights were roughly the same and our uniforms were tailored to make each person look androgynous. Even our skin was painted black to prevent anyone from distinguishing us by pigment. And even though we operated in groups, outsiders never saw us together in the field."

As Thalia spoke, she turned her head to her ornaments wistfully, no doubt recalling her glory days.

"It was a simple trick really but effective. Our anonymity aided us greatly in our missions, especially assassinations. When a target was too well protected to kill alone, a Haunter would deliberately trip an alarm, alerting the guards. Usually, our pursuers would report spotting a wraithlike figure on their comm. frequencies only to be cut off. Moments later, another group would report seeing the same occurrence only to be silenced shortly afterwards. Pretty soon ever guard would start ranting about a ghost or evil spirit haunting the corridors, appearing out of nowhere to kill them one by one. Sometimes our enemies were so scared of this phenomena, they would drop their guns and flee."

Revan's attention became rapt as the Twi'lek continued.

"I remember our exploits being talked in the underworld with hushed tones. Many gangs would whisper fearfully of a deathly spectre roaming the streets, sometimes in different places in one night. We would appear without warning to kill a target or pull off a heist. To our rivals, we were a weapon of terror, a tool to sow dissension. Sometimes, the mere threat of the Haunter's arrival would be enough to dissuade our competitors from certain activities. But when all was said and done, they all thought the Haunter was one unknown entity."

Thalia stopped her story as the droid announced the operation was complete. She leaned forward to examine the work.

"Hmmm, not bad. I don't see any residual scarring. Your face looks as handsome as it did before Victus used it for a punching bag."

Revan grunted in amusement before Thalia asked. "How does it feel? Can you see anything yet?"

"Only splotches," he admitted.

"That's normal. It will take some time for the new nerves to bind properly,"

Thalia wiped her hands with a damp cloth as the Jedi gingerly sat up. She gave him an appraising look.

"And now you know what I did with my youth. Not exactly grounds for a model citizen now was I?" she said with a smile.

"It sounds like an...interesting time in your life." he admitted. Thalia chuckled at his euphemism.

"My youth was quite carefree if truth be told, yes. There was danger in these activities, but I was quite in my element and never alone. They were...good times.

Revan heard the melancholy in the female's voice as she trailed away. She suddenly looked sad, or tired,

"But enough of that. I must be boring you with these cobweb stories. No one likes to hear an old codger prattle."

"I don't mind." Replied Revan honestly. He found Thalia's story about her thieving days to be quite educational actually. Who knew all it took was a mask, some dark clothing and resourcefulness to make everyone think numerous individuals were the same person?

Revan asked the question he had been wondering for awhile then.

"I was hoping you would tell me how you came to claim Mysteel and T'shere as your children,"

Thalia favoured him with a smile. "You are kind to indulge an old women's fancies Jedi. That is a story that I think you'd find quite interesting...but it is one for another time. One that should only be told in Lucidae's presence.

"Why?" Asked Revan.

"You'll understand when you meet him. Now, you must excuse me. I must find my little daughter and put her to bed. Mysteel has been letting her stay up all night in my absence, the naughty girl."

With one more smile, the Twi'lek turned and walked out of the room, leaving the Jedi to muse over everything she had said.


	22. Chapter 22 Secrets Part 1

_Don't you recognize me?_

_-Lucidae_

_

* * *

_

Matarl crept through the long winding tunnels, letting his instincts and memories guide him through the winding paths. He was careful to stop every few meters and check he didn't inadvertently trigger any traps or silent alarms. If Kynes had any redeeming features, it was that she was thorough.

For days, the Twi'lek had pursued his sources tirelessly, calling on every favor he had ever been owed to track down his former associates. One of his contacts said that Mysteel and T'shere were frequently sighted at the _Minx_ before Victus turned it into a slaughterhouse which meant there was a good chance their base was nearby. Using this lead, he had begun a frantic journey throughout the city for more sightings. Many times he thought he caught solid intel on their whereabouts only to discover it was a false trail.

Still, Matarl was undeterred, checking every nook and cranny that the group could conceivably hide in. Many of his informants remarked how 'different' he looked, a euphemism for his peeling skin and milky eyes. Matarl cared little about his appearance anymore. The only thing that mattered was finding Aethon Cell. His eagerness bordered on obsession, the Rutian not even stopping to sleep during his exploration.

When it became clear all the usual hotspots were unoccupied, Matarl remembered one of Aethon Cell's more obscure hiding spots was the underground subway network, beneath the sewer system. Despite the fact that the sewers were a breeding ground for mutant rejects and other unmentionables, Matarl had entered the transit system without a moment's hesitation and began a frantic trek in the murky catacombs.

It was here when things got complicated. The first problem was that the underground network was immense. Matarl's memory of the tunnel system was sketchy at best and its topography no longer matched any maps he came across thanks to the constant reconfigurations from its mutated inhabitants. The Cell could have hidden almost anywhere in this underground maze of death. And despite Matarl's scouting skills, the Rutian had to concede it would be near impossible to find them without a solid starting point.

He began to get frustrated when fortune struck. As Matarl stumbled down to what seemed to be the millionth winding tunnel, he had caught the scent of blood, the coppery rich smell igniting his senses like never before. It called to him, stronger then any beacon ever could. Surprised and curious at the sensation, Matarl started plodding in the direction the scent was strongest.

As he continued traveled, Matarl's confidence began to grow as he began to recognize certain junctions and landmarks within the filthy tunnels. Aethon Cell had hidden their progress well, but as one of the few who knew every one of Kyne's tricks, the tell tail signs of recent passage was evident. There were the muddy tracks that showed a large group had doubled back in these tunnels. And the the splash marks on the walls...their spatter pattern indicated the group was in haste. Matarl could picture it all in his mind. Someone had been severely wounded, and the group had hastily transported that person through these parts. Right back to their base.

Yes. This time Matarl _knew _he was getting close.

_This was it_. He thought. After all this time, he was returning to the people who had exiled him. Who made his life into such a shit hole. At first, the Rutian was understandably wary as he realized he getting into hostile territory. But he felt his trepidation smothered into the recesses of his subconscious, replaced by an invisible voice that spurred him forward. It was a certainty that sang in his blood, as certain as the hate he felt for the people he hunted. After all these years, his scars had not healed. If anything they had become even worse, his bitterness festering like a cancerous tumor. And he had Victus to thank for that.

_You're going to get what's coming to you Lucidae. You and your little bitches._

Matarl clenched his left fist in anticipation. The Rutian wanted Lucidae to suffer for the punishment he gave him. But most importantly he wanted Thalia to suffer. He wanted the slut to experience the same gut wrenching shame he had felt all that time ago…

With that thought, Matarl re-doubled his efforts and plunged deeper into the abyss.

* * *

The day following Revan's operation, Mysteel burst into his room again. This time her little sister was hitching a ride on her back, giggling as Mysteel's bounced her up and down with the back of her arms. At the pair's approach, Revan gave Mysteel an inquiring look.

"Someone wants to see you," she announced in a sing song voice.

"Your leader," Revan surmised and Mysteel nodded enthusiastically. The Jedi felt an odd tingle through his hands. "So I finally get to meet this...Lucidae."

"Aren't you excited? I know I am," When Revan said nothing, Mysteel flashed her pearly smile. "Don't worry you'll like him. You two have a lot in common."

"Then I doubt it. _I _don't even like me." Revan replied dourly. His companion laughed.

"Ready to go?" Mysteel asked when she composed herself.

He nodded and stood up gingerly, not wanting tear a stitch. The first few attempts had hurt, but this time it was without too much difficulty. Mysteel led him out the tiny room and through the dimply lit office corridors. The Jedi walked slightly behind the Twi'lek, who had adopted a skipping gait and was humming a jaunty tune. Revan realized he felt exponentially stronger since his last dance with death if still somewhat wobbly. He also noticed Mysteel seemed much more like her old self now, happy and carefree. Apparently the death of the Sith Lord had removed the inner anguish that had plagued her since the disaster at the auction.

_Victus must have been worse than I thought._

"So...what has been happening while I was bedridden?" Asked Revan eventually, more to dissuade her singing then to make conversation.

"Lots." Replied Mysteel's cheerfully before humming again. Revan gave her an annoyed look.

"Oh you want specifics." said Mysteel giggling. "Well, we've been trying to follow other leads to the Cult's base since the auction. At least Kynes and her scouts have. T'shere and I had a spat so she assigned me to cleaning duty. Lightsabers mostly."

Revan could imagine why. From what he had gathered, Mysteel had been the most vocal about saving his miserable hide, something T'shere was vehemently against.

"That sounds...mundane." he said neutrally.

"Oh I think its fun!" She enthused. "I have this special technique you see. First I start with a soft cloth and some lubricant, gently kneading the tip down to the base. Then I grab the shaft and pump it up and down until everything has a nice oily sheen. The trick is to really put some elbow grease into so you get the full effect. Sometimes when my arm gets tired, I switch to the other one for kicks. My Master always says I do a good job so I-"

"Wait," interrupted Revan cautiously. "What…what are you talking about?"

"Why, cleaning of course." Said Mysteel, all innocence as she bounced her sister up and down. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"I...never mind," replied the Jedi, turning his head away so she couldn't see his embarrassment. Mysteel shrugged and they continued to walk in awkward silence for a couple of seconds.

"Oh" said the Twi'lek almost as an afterthought. "And when I was cleaning my Master's lightsaber, I could hear sis and Kynes going at it in the other room. You should have been there to hear the glory. It sounded like someone was goring a wild animal."

She said this with a perfectly deadpan expression but then her mask cracked and she burst into laughter. Then her sister laughed. Revan couldn't keep a straight face either. He laughed along with them both, thinking how he had never met someone quite so flamboyant.

_She's joking...probably._

Mysteel guided Revan down a flight of stairs that the Jedi hadn't been to before, one that went further below the subway complex he was initially incarcerated. They emerged into a tunnel glowing with a soft blue light. The walls were roughly hewn, without any of the snaking pipes and chipped metal plating lining the walls. This had definitely been more recently excavated than the rest of the tunnels.

They walked a few hundred meters before arriving at an oval door, cut from huge slabs of metal. A faint white dome of energy shone out in front of it. The metal barrier itself looked incredibly sturdy, something that could withstand vigorous amounts of punishments. The chamber was obviously designed to keep valuable items sealed.

_A vault._

Revan could see no discernible locking mechanism, but Mysteel simply waved her hand at the ceiling, where a camera hung discreetly from the rock. The energy field diminished and the two doors started creaking open with the grinding of metal on rock. An ominous greenish-blue light split the slit, growing with every passing moment. Revan had to avert his gaze to avoid the glare. When the barrier had fully opened, Mysteel turned back to him.

"In you go," she said giving Revan a wink. "Don't worry, we won't keep you here."

The Jedi shrugged and walked in. What he saw gave him a moment's pause.

The room looked more like a science lab with an assembly line than a vault. Vast pieces of machinery with retractable appendages were scattered across the room, busily manipulating pieces of weapons or circuit boards that lay under them. At least a dozen figures milled about, working the curious equipment or observing huge transparent vats filled with a viscous fluid. He could hear a constant chugging sound as they worked, like the whirring of a washing machine.

As Revan walked closer to investigate, he realized the occupants of the room were not men, but droids. Droids similar to the dented scrap metal thing that had performed his surgery.

_How many Army droids do they have?_

With some alarm, he noted that many were looking at various organs and tissue sample suspended in the bubbling cauldrons, their origin was definitely nonhuman. Were the droids growing alien specimens?

Before Revan could investigate further, Mysteel gently prodded him to the huge silver monitor that dominated the back of the room. It was a screen buzzing with activity, a veritable plethora of sub-windows showing vids, pie charts and topographical information. There were two figures standing below the giant projection: T'shere with her typical scowl, and Thalia who was looking exasperated as she tried to reason with her volatile daughter.

"I don't like it mother," Revan heard T'shere say as he inched closer. "Why should we share our secrets with that human? He is a Jedi lapdog."

"It is better he knows the truth so he can help us," The other woman insisted.

"Like he did last time? I'm still trying to clean up the fallout from his reckless actions. Arctet actually did someone right for once and the bastard pissed it away."

"Need I remind you that his 'reckless actions' resulted in the death of a major foe," said Thalia pointedly. "You should have more respect for the Jedi,"

"There are things I shat out today that I respect more than him mother," retorted T'shere acidly. "I-"

Revan took this moment to pointedly appear in their line of sight. The females stopped their animated discussion and turned their attention to him. Thalia gave him a tired smile but T'shere's eyes narrowed in consternation.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked disdainfully.

Before Revan could reply, a deep voice behind the Arkanian spoke.

"He is here at my request,"

At the words, T'shere's scowl deepened. The two females parted away to reveal a third figure sitting behind them, previously unseen.

The man looked human, garbed in grey robes that billowed softly to the ground. He possessed striking hair that fell elegantly down to his shoulders like streams of silver. One hand jutted underneath his chin as he leaned forward in his chair, brow furrowed deep in thought. His patrician face had a sense of timelessness to him, imbued with the wisdom of countless generations. And right now, the man was looking at Revan with striking green eyes.

At first, the Jedi was sure he had never seen this person before. But as he stared on, Revan felt a sensed of recognition threaten to emerge from his psyche. The other man seemed to sense it too, his face betraying the slightest tick.

_I know who you are. Don't you recognize me? _They seemed to say.

"Master!" Mysteel said happily, interrupting his reverie. Revan shook his head, and the moment passed like a receding dream.

Mysteel pranced up to the human and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. The man turned his attention to the enthusiastic Twi'lek and nodded fractionally.

"Mysteel." he said in a warm voice. "I am glad to see you"

"Who isn't?" she replied cheerfully. The Twi'lek straightened and nodded at Revan.

"I bought you our guest,"

"So I see," The man who Mysteel called Master stood up and walked in front of Revan in two smooth steps. He extended his arm in a gesture of invitation.

"Welcome. As you have no doubt surmised, I am Lucidae,"

Revan reached out to take the proffered hand, but to his surprise the man leaned forward and gripped him by the forearm instead. This was one of the traditional greeting method between Jedi Knights after battle, although the custom was somewhat outdated. Clearly the Master knew tradition. Revan still felt uncomfortable with the situation, not knowing what to make of the other man or how much he knew. Lucidae's face was like chiseled marble, someone who kept his secrets close to his chest. The Jedi decided to play it safe.

"An honor," Revan said simply. A faint smile emerged from the other man.

"I was told, that you were instrumental in killing Victus." Said Lucidae. "He was our greatest enemy's right hand of terror and one of his most dangerous henchmen. You have my sincerest gratitude for helping me extinguish the life of that wretched being."

From his side, T'shere snorted, clearly disagreeing with that assessment. If Lucidae noticed, he gave no indication.

"You must have many questions," continued the silver haired man. "And I would be pleased to answer them for you,"

T'shere looked like she had enough.

"And why exactly, are you being so open with him Lucidae?" she interrupted harshly. Revan's continued involvement clearly didn't sit well with the Arkanian. The Jedi saw that even after all this time, her stance against him was still hard and unforgiving.

"He is an outsider and a Jedi to boot. Anything you say to him will only incriminate us further. When he leaves, he'll go running back to his masters to prattle,"

"I don't think we have to worry about that," said the other man quietly. Revan tensed at those words. Did Mysteel tell him he was an outcast?

"Trust is earned and Revan has earned ours after the events that have transpired and through his actions.".

Mysteel and Thalia smiled at the words but Thalia was undeterred.

"If you mean he botched the auction and lost our only lead back to the Cult then-"

"Enough T'shere," The words were spoken quietly by Thalia but there was an underlying tone of command, one from a scolding mother. In response, her daughter's eyes went to the floor as she muttered under her breath.

Revan considered his options for a moment before asking.

"Let's start with the most important one. Where is the weapon ? The one from the auction?"

"Most of it is secured within a secure location."

"Most?" repeated Revan.

"My droids are currently in the midst of analyzing a sample of the malicious substance." he admitted. "We are curious to the nature of this weapon."

"Where is the rest?"

Lucidae remained silent.

"I have a mandate to secure it for the Order." pressed Revan, irritated by the elusive responses. "And I do not plan to leave this planet without it in my possession."

T'shere opened her mouth, probably to object but Lucidae raised a hand.

"I know of the agreement that was made between you and Mysteel." He said calmly. "And I have every intention of honoring it. But before our enemy is brought to justice, it would be prudent to keep it from falling into the wrong hands, wouldn't you agree?

Revan considered this for a moment, realizing the subtext. Lucidae was using the weapon as a bartering tool, to force the Jedi's continued cooperation under the mien of civility. Revan didn't like being played but at the moment his curiosity overrode any hostile actions he considered taking. Reluctantly he nodded.

"Very well,"

Lucidae remained silent, obviously waiting for Revan to ask the most obvious question. The Jedi gave an exasperated sigh.

"All right, I'll bite. Who are you?"

The faint smile returned.

"I am as the others have said," said Lucidae calmly. "A former Master of the Jedi Order, now the leader of this fraternity. One I assure you that is dedicated to the prosperity of the Republic."

"Forgive me if I am not cozened by such rhetoric." Said Revan dryly. "Your name is not familiar to me. And I thought I knew all the names of the Masters within the Order, former or not,"

"No, it wouldn't be I suppose," agreed Lucidae. "Most who knew me well are dead. And I suspect my name was struck clean from the archives when I was left Coruscant for good."

Revan paused. Only the most grievous of crimes could warrant expunging the records of a fellow Jedi. Lucidae must have done something suitably horrific to warrant such censure.

"And why did you leave?" he asked eventually.

"Ah," said the other man. "so now we come to the heart of the matter. It is a good question, but one which I suspect will only lead to a myriad more."

Lucidae turned away from Revan in one smooth gesture. He walked past to his own comrades, giving each of them a thoughtful stare.

"To understand our origins, you must understand how we all met. Some would call it an arbitrary coincidence of souls, others would call it fate. I like to believe it was a bit of both,"

He turned back to face Revan.

"Do you know the history of this blighted world?"

Revan nodded cautiously.

"A bit. It was formerly a frontier colony of the Republic. Savagely destroyed by Sith centuries ago."

The Jedi gave a sideways glance to T'shere who was still scowling at him. "I was told that the man who committed this atrocity is the man you are hunting today. A Sith Lord named Malleus"

Lucidae nodded, his expression hardening. "Everything you say is true. But to call Malleus and his brood Sith is somewhat of a misnomer."

"Is he not a Sith Lord?" inquired Revan. He thought back to Victus' words and his claim of being a former Jedi.

_There are no Sith Lords. _Victus had stated. _It is a borrowed title used by the Order to cover their secret shame._

"Not exactly," said Lucidae cryptically. "It is a term we use for familiarity. He is classified as Darth Malleus but in reality, even Malleus himself does not acknowledge that title. He fancies himself as Reborn"

Lucidae's gaze fell to the rows of darkly glowing canisters.

"The Sith of the present age are simply individuals of different races that have taken up the rituals practiced by the dominant species of Korriban millennium past. But the Reborn…he is something else entirely'"

"You speak as if you know him well," observed Revan.

"I won't claim that. But my unique history wihas his cult has shown me horrors that I would scarce believe existed," said Lucidae softly. "Malleus takes sick satisfaction in his depraved rituals and cannibalistic ways. It is those very excesses that have earned him the secondary title of 'the Butcher by his victims…. But I am getting ahead of myself."

He turned to the eldest Twi'lek in the room.

"Thalia. Do you wish to reveal your secret to Revan?

Thalia nodded. "I do Lucidae, I do."

She turned to Revan and gave him a somber look. "Before I tell you anything, I hope I can convince you to be…opened minded. Many of my actions may seem questionable, especially to a Jedi. But I assure you, I always tried to do the right thing."

T'shere sneered. "You don't have to explain yourself mother. I don't expect a Jedi to understand . Especially _him_."

Revan ignored the jibe and gave a subtle nod to Thalia. She took a deep breath and started talking.

"The story of Malleus and our group begins when all our paths crossed on this very world more than a decade ago. I was about…oh twenty two years old when I met my first pair of little rugrats."

Thalia paused to turn a fond eye to her two eldest daughters. Mysteel giggled and T'shere even managed to crack a smile, no doubt thinking back to happier days. Revan eyed her curiously. "You left the thieves guild?"

"No. Not really." Said Thalia shaking her head.

"You've probably wondered how I became so well traveled. It all started when my family fell on hard circumstances. Father lost his jobs due to infirmity and took it hard. He started gambling and drinking excessively, losing a great deal of credits in a very short amount of time. My other siblings weren't doing much better as well. Despite the significant sums I earned, my whole family accumulated a staggering amount of debt. From the bank, drug dealers, even the guild itself and obviously they are not forgiving where credits are concerned. Sometimes I wonder how my own flesh and blood could be so foolish to borrow from them. When it seemed we would be forced to flee the planet just to avoid the Enforcers, my guild Masters approached me with a unique offer."

The Twi'lek hesitated as if afraid to reveal the next part of her story. Mysteel moved closer to her at that moment, putting one hand on her shoulder. Thalia seemed to appreciate the support as she took the hand and squeezed.

"As you know Revan," she said slowly. "Female Twi'leks are highly prized in the black market as slaves and for…other services. What you might not know is we are not just bartered in the underground but through official channels as well."

"You're saying there are legitimate organizations in the Republic that deal in the sex trade?" said Revan incredulously. "Who could possibly get away with that?"

"The Army." Said Thalia simply. "They discreetly but frequently visits our planet to hire women for their soldiers. And they pay quite handsomely as well."

Thalia's words made no sense. "Why would the army be at Ryloth in the first place?" he asked, plainly suspicious. "I doubt they could justify sending whole regiments into the Outer Rim just for a… a fun run,"

Thalia smiled at his choice of words. "Ever since the last major war against the Mandalorians, the Army has increased its presence in the Outer Rim. They feared reprisal, and rightly so as minor skirmishes against scattered clans had become more frequent. So no, a Republic warship flying overhead Ryloth's skies was not an uncommon sight. And if they were to pursue…other activities during their patrols, most ordinary civilians would not be the wiser."

Revan wanted to rebuke these outrageous claims but what Thalia said made perverse sense. It was no secret that most soldiers of any species needed to relieve tensions through carnal means. Build a brothel in a city and you could bet rat packs of soldiers would be raiding it before the owner could get the sign up. And if regiments were on extended tour, it was not unheard of for women to be shipped out for them. Sex was essential to maintaining discipline and moral in any military expedition. If prostitutes weren't available, well...Revan was fairly sure that rape investigations would skyrocket.

And Thalia had another point. If Twi'leks were known for anything, it was for being pleasure slaves, but they were almost always unwillingly participants. To think that someone sold herself to the flesh markets was beyond fathoming.

"So you decided to become an…Army whore?" He said, somewhat uncouthly. By any standard, it seemed like a step down from her previous job.

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Revan felt a stinging slap on the cheek. T'shere rounded upon him, eyes ablaze in anger.

"Don't call my mother a whore." she hissed, throttling the Jedi by the front of his robes. Mysteel looked like she was going to intervene but one glare from T'shere made the Twi'lek shrink back. The Arkanian whipped her head back to the target of her ire.

"Do you really think she'd sell herself just to be moved to a barracks to be used as a sperm dumpster?"

The sharpness of her voice surprised him. He knew this was a sensitive subject, and inwardly berated himself for being so crass about it.

"My apologies," said Revan in a conciliatory tone. "I let my biases get the better of me."

T'shere wasn't appeased though. "I don't want your damn _apologies_ Revan," She spat. "I want you gone. Away from my life. Preferably dead,"

"T'shere," said Thalia firmly grabbing her daughter's shoulder. "He meant nothing by it. It is an easy conclusion to draw."

"No, it isn't mother!" Insisted the Arkanian angrily shaking Thalia off. "He has no right to speak to you like that, let alone be here!"

"Control yourself T'shere," said Lucidae quietly, subtly interposing him between the two women. "You overstep your bounds,"

"Oh, of course _Master_," spat T'shere every word tinged with acid. "It is your privilege to always have your way!"

She rounded on Lucidae. "Far be it for me to question your judgment, but do you mind telling me why you're letting mother share our personal history with this...this miscreant! He's a Jedi. The antithesis of everything we stand for!"

"It's not that simple" Lucidae said neutrally. T'shere seemed to expect that response.

"Oh nothing ever is with you, is it Lucidae?" she retorted sharply. "You've never told me the truth. Even now, you're hiding your true intentions about working with Revan, about the weapon, _everything_!"

T'shere's voice had become increasingly shrill as she spewed her anger. She would have said more until a new sound caught everyone's attention. The little Twi'lek who called herself Mission was crying into Mysteel's shoulder, clearly frightened by the Arkanian's outburst. Thalia rushed to the child's side and made soothing noises.

"Shhh, there there little one. Don't cry. T'shere isn't angry at you…"

Mysteel did the same, while throwing an admonishing look her older sister's way. The livid female looked momentarily guilty before her typical scowl reasserted itself. With a disgusted noise, T'shere shoved Revan out of the way and started stomping out of the room, ever step punctuated by an angry boot click.

"Do what you want then, but don't come crying to me when everything goes to hell '_Master'_." She growled as a parting remark. And with that, T'shere left, the doors closing with a resounding bang.

* * *

An awkward silence descended upon the room, interrupted by soft sniffling from time to time. The remaining females exchanged glances, clearly pained and somewhat embarrassed by T'shere's rude behaviour. Eventually, Mysteel gently put her sister into Thalia's arms.

"I'll...I'll go check on her," she murmured before trotting off in pursuit.

"I'm sorry," repeated Revan when Mysteel had left. He rubbed the area where the angry female's nails cut into her skin.

"No," said Lucidae. "Her grief lies with me. She is only misplacing her anger onto you because Jedi make an easy target for her ire. But I take responsibility for her outburst."

The Master rubbed his face wearily as he sat back into the metal chair.

"I had hoped giving T'shere command and more freedom would quell her temper. But if anything, her rages have become more frequent."

"Why does she hate Jedi so much?" asked Revan pointedly.

"That is a complicated question," the silver haired man replied, steepling his fingers. "Let's just say after all the experiences she's endured, T'shere felt betrayed. Especially after she was expelled."

Revan raised an eyebrow.

"She was expelled from the Jedi Order?" _That_ certainly put some things into perspective. "Why? For being your student?"

"I will tell you in time, but I think it's best if we start from the beginning. Thalia?"

The female nodded, regaining her composure.

"Yes…where was I? Ah yes, my new opportunity. As it so happens, my guild had wanted to insert a spy into the Republic Army for some time. Intelligence regarding new technology or the fleet's disposition is highly coveted within the underworld. But to gain access to that kind of information, one would need to be part of the highest echelons of command without raising suspicion. Forcing a spy into play would be too risky and paying someone off was too unreliable."

Thalia hesitated for a moment.

"But a new opportunity presented itself to my guild. They discovered the army was recently on another female recruiting run. This time, it was not just for the common infantry but the commanders. Men of very significant rank who were looking for...consorts."

When Thalia said that, he was reminded of a filthy joke Ava once told him. _Do you know how to tell the difference between a commander and a grunt? Grunts like us don't mind sharing the pot. But __commanders will never eat from another person's trencher_. Revan didn't say it of course but Thalia seemed to sense his doubt.

"I know what you're thinking, but a consort is nothing like a whore. They are companions to commanders, diplomats and even goveners, able to move freely in high society. Almost like trophy wives. True, consorts acted like a personal harem, but they also attended balls, official planetary visits and other important events."

"And you're saying…" Revan trailed off as Thalia smiled coquettishly.

"Yes. My superiors thought this was the perfect chance for insertion, by getting one of their own assets to pose as a courtesan. And, not to blow my own horn, but in my youth I was considered quite the beauty. My superiors thought I would be an ideal candidate for this mission. It would be a long term assignment though, and very risky. Aside from espionage, I would be expected to help sway certain political decisions in my guild's favor. But in exchange for such a high profile and risky task, the guild would forgive all my family's debts and see that they were suitably employed in honest work. And by then, short of fleeing the planet we really had no options so I agreed. My guild arranged for me to be...appraised, posing as a consort from one of the high class brothels"

She shrugged.

"And apparently I was deemed worthy, because soon enough, I found myself meeting Grand Admiral Balharrn, leader of the 778th Republic Expedition which happened to be one of the largest fleets operating long term in the Outer Rim."

"Y-you became a consort to an _Admiral_?" said Revan in disbelief. Thalia nodded.

"It was not a bad life if true told. I got to visit many exotic worlds, experience alien cultures and attend social functions that I had only dreamt of. I had an especially grand time at the state dinners, making up different personas to justify my attachment to Balharrn. Sometimes I said I was a family friend to the admiral, other times an ambassador from some Republic colony. If I was feeling brave enough, I even paraded around as a Senator."

Thalia chuckled fondly at the memories until she realized the Jedi wasn't smiling.

"So you got to move in high society. But was that all you did?" said Revan with a hint of accusation. No matter what Thalia wanted to call it, a consort still had to fulfil minimum…obligations.

Thalia's smile disappeared. She spoke hesitantly.

"Certain things were expected of me of course. Throughout my time within the expedition, I collected many juicy army secrets and funnelled them back to my guild. As a consort, I had to look pretty for the Admiral's dignitaries and laugh at his jokes. And many a night, I warmed the man's sheets and pleasured him to his heart's content. But our relationship was mutually beneficial. Since I literally had the Admiral's balls in my hand, I could...influence him in matters that benefited my employers."

"What kind of things?" pressed Revan, who felt himself getting increasingly discomfited despite his solemn pledge not to judge.

"Oh, you don't want to know," She looked uncomfortable at the line of questioning.

Revan probably didn't but he could guess. With her influence, Thalia had probably convinced the Admiral to overlook many illicit activities or remove border patrols from points of interest for her real employers. It wouldn't surprise him if Thalia managed to get the Admiral to start a war on behalf of her guild!

_How many lives were snuffed out on a suggestion? A whisper into the ear?_

He stared at the woman who recounted these…enormities, seeing the Twi'lek in a whole new light. Revan had recently begun to think that the ends justified the means. But he had no idea some people were willing to take it so far. Thalia insisted her intentions were noble and she probably believed it. However he highly doubted that her decision didn't cause collateral damage. Who knew how many deaths she caused indirectly by trading secrets or convincing high command to look the other way? Revan briefly wondered what he would do if he were in Thalia's position. To have the resources of the entire Army at his disposal. Could he really abuse that power like she did?

_No, I could never be like her._

"This is all very fascinating," said Revan eventually, trying to keep the disapproval from his voice. "But I fail to see how this ties back to your association with Malleus."

"I'm getting to that. I wouldn't tell you about my time as a courtesan if it wasn't relevant to the greater scheme of things."

Thalia shifted slightly in her seat and she closed her eyes. A silence descended on the room and when she spoke, it was in hushed, almost fearful tones.

"I can still remember the fateful day I first met Malleus, like a brand in my head. The 778th expedition was conducting a minor skirmish in the Corellion cluster against roving warband of Mandalorians. Most of the flotilla was in orbital battle. But the vessel I was on lingered behind on one of the secured planets to collect refugees from the war zone and transport them back to Aalderan. It seemed routine and safe enough. I was on the command deck, surrounded by the Admiral's men and observing the proceedings. The militia had just finished loading over two hundred men, women and children into the ship when a lieutenant announced an unidentified ship had suddenly jumped out of hyperspace and was on an approach vector."

Thalia's face darkened as she recounted more of her story.

"Admiral Balharrn ordered a visual. When it came onscreen I could see the vessel was old, _ancient_ event. It was larger than a cruiser but nowhere near the size of our flagship. The hull jutted with metal incisions like a fanged beast and its prow was beaten into the shape of a maw. At first, the commanders thought it was a derelict ship that got lost for what madman would attack a Republic warship? But when it opened fire, it became clear the attackers were not simple travellers. Before we could hail them, their first shot crippled our forward shields and the aftershock killed one pilot outright. The admiral shouted for return fire but our weapons didn't so much as dent the hull. The enemy was fast as well. It strafed our position, peppering our broadsides until the shields died completely. And with each passing second, the command deck became complete chaos, as fires and explosions erupting from every corner."

She paused again, as if trying to compose herself from the experience.

"While our people were dying and scrambling to maintain life support, something came crashing into the hull. A naval rating clawed his way to a dead man's console and reported that we were being boarded. Admiral Balharrn roared for defense teams to be deployed. Despite the initial shock, Balhaarn was confident we could to repel the invaders. After all, we had almost five hundred veteran soldiers onboard and based on the size of the enemy ship, they couldn't have had more than three score. Reports over the comm. system however were not favorable. Balhaarn's men ranted about feral monsters impervious to weapons fire, tearing through them like a Wookie with a Bantha steak. As I strained to make sense of the chatter, I could hear the invaders chanting. They kept repeating two words, harsh and discordant, almost like a mantra. But those words were drowned out by screaming and pretty soon it sounded like a slaughter."

Revan felt a sense of déjà vu. He remembered his unenviable position back at the auction when Victus had staged the same kind of lightning attack.

"I tried to convince the Admiral to evacuate. At first Balhaarn refused any notion of defeat but even the admiral's face became more pale as the horrid screams of his men kept echoing over the comm., as sector after sector on the ship went dark. When the last communications line went dead, he conceded that the fight was lost. The Admiral ordered a general evacuation but I knew by then it would be too late. Our only hope was to be taken alive. While Balhaarn's men tried to secure a passage out of the bridge, I took it upon myself to replicate a distress signal into a portable transmitter, in the hopes that the Republic fleet could track it. Just as I finished downloading the protocols, the hatch doors exploded in a gout of black flame. That was the first time I saw Malleus."

Thalia lapsed into silence, seeming unwilling to recount further.

"What did he look like?" Revan ventured eventually. Thalia looked at him, no looked _through_ him as she said,

"When I first saw him, I could not believe such a person could exist. Imagine a man so corrupted, so utterly bloated by hate that it ruined everything in its path with his mere presence. It was as if Malleus was one huge roiling cauldron of raw emotion, ready to explode at any moment. I wanted to scream, I wanted to puke but mostly I wanted to die. It was just that horrifying..."

Thalia trailed off again so Revan asked another question.

"So you met Malleus when his troupe attacked your ship in a lightning raid and slaughtered the men aboard."

She nodded wearily.

"I can imagine what happened next,"

"You imagine correctly. The fighting was intense but very one sided. The guards were shredded into ribbons by these..._things_ before anyone got a shot off. I was only knocked down onto the floor with a gash to my leg though. But Malleus...Malleus killed Balhaarn himself. Took him by the skull and ripped the man's spine out through the back while he screamed for mercy. It was an excruciating death. I could still remember the blood spurting out like a fountain..."

Thalia stopped her story and began to shudder, a vacant expression taking hold. Lucidae walked up to her and placed a calming hand on her shoulder which seemed to help.

"What did Malleus do with you afterwards?" Revan asked Thalia composed herself somewhat.

"His...his monsters herded the survivors like cattle back to their vessel and into these tiny cages. Maimed soldiers, refugees, other passengers…in that way, they didn't discriminate. The prisons were no taller than five and a half feet. I was thrown in with a group of terrified children and two men. Most of us were stripped of possessions, but I managed to keep the portable distress beacon concealed throughout the whole ordeal."

She grimaced.

"Then they left us in pitch darkness. At that point, I remember the sounds and smells more than anything visual. Wailing, cursing, sweat. But more than anything, I remember the _fear_."

At this point Revan noticed Thalia was quite ashen as the vacant expression took hold again. She evidently had residual post traumatic stress disorder from the experience. Suddenly, Thalia shook her head as if to dismiss the horrible memories.

"You know Lucidae," announced the Twi'lek. "The heat in this vault is quite stifling. I think I need a breath of air. Will you finish the story for me? You know how most of it goes anyways,"

"Of course," said Lucidae graciously, tipping his head. The Twi'lek thanked him and began walking out.

"Wait, one more question if you could," said Revan.

Thalia turned back and gave him an inquiring look.

"You mentioned when Malleus attacked your ship, his slaves were chanting something. What were they saying?"

She scrunched her face in thought and said.

"What did they say? It's sounded like gibberish...but I think it was Ajunta Pall."

With that, Thalia walked out of the vault, leaving Revan alone with the former Master.


	23. Chapter 23 Secrets Part 2

_The deadliest warriors are the ones _

_you never see coming_

_-unattributed source_

_

* * *

_

Matarl stopped at the latest section of tunnels, a T-junction leading into two separate paths. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he read the faded scripts on the wall.

_Junction T-3 subsector four. That's…_

His heart began beating even more rapidly_. _If the Rutian was correct, he was only hundreds of meters away from _Haven, _one of the many abandoned waypoints Aethon Cell used for their activities.

_Haven_ had once been a train station, until it had been converted into a makeshift bomb shelter during the war. The gateway into the shelter was now closed, barred by sheets of metal thicker than the Rutian's arm. Matarl's first instinct was to approach the entrance, but realized it would be foolish. Instead, he planted his lobe to the ground. Holding his breath, the Twi'lek could detect the subtle vibrations of more than a dozen footsteps hundreds of meters away. Also, the scent of blood beyond was stronger then ever.

_Yes _he thought, with ever growing excitement. _This is what I've been looking for._

Matarl forced himself to calm down, knowing he would end up a blue smear if he tried to force his way through the front door. Aside from the obvious obstacle, the former spy knew that Kynes would have set up dozens of sensors and cameras to sweep the perimeter. And the walls likely concealed auto defense turrets ready to deploy at a moment's notice. Not to mention the guards that were undoubtedly posted behind the barrier, waiting to kill anything that did not have security clearance.

The Twi'lek had no intention of entering at the moment though, not without proper reinforcements. _The Cult would arrive soon _saidMatarl to himself as he remembered the Sith Lord's words. And when that happened, they would need easy access into the base without alerting its defences.

Matarl needed to devise a plan, something that his enemies wouldn't expect.

With that in mind, he turned to his left towards the smaller tunnel. Counting his steps, Matarl walked for two hundred paces until he reached one of the many rusted metal doors on the side of the wall. A dull blinking console with a keypad hung to the side. Faded etchings were scrawled on the door.

_Environmental control chambers level III_.

Matarl smiled.

_I bet you never thought anyone would use this way, did you Kynes?_

The room beyond he remembered, contained one of the many atmosphere renewers built by the inhabitants centuries ago. During the nuclear fallout, they were used to recycle contaminated air from the surface and filtered it to become breathable. The oxygen was then vetted into different parts of the tunnel system through a complicated network of ventilation shafts. The machines were useless now, broken after years of neglect. But the shafts still existed and certain junctures would eventually lead into _Haven _station: underneath the floorboards, the ceilings, the washrooms.

The chances of someone venturing through this way into their base was negligible. But being the paranoid troll that she was, Kynes would still have implemented security measures. These could be bypassed much more easily than the main entrance since it was highly unlikely any guards would be posted along these obscure routes.

Also, it didn't hurt that he had helped design the security measures.

The Rutian took out an entry plug from his portable hacking tool and connected it into the wall mounted socket just below the console. His screen lit up with a plethora of code as it interfaced with the Cell's local security network. After scanning the contents for a few moments, Matarl hopes rose even higher. Kynes had upgraded the protocols since he had left, as any self respecting security agent would. However, she has made one crucial flaw.

_She never replaced it._

Physically, the security network extended towards all check points that could possibly lead to their base and connected back to their central server. The software itself was essentially divided into three layers. There was the interface used at entrances like he was at now. That interface interacted with the semantic and database levels of the system. Built in between these levels were various protocols designed to detect piracy and viruses.

The good new for Kynes was that almost any hacker, no matter how proficient they were would have a hard time hijacking the system. To gain full access, a user needed to be have administrative privileges. But the root password for those users were generated in hexadecimal and rotated every few minutes within the database.

Without knowing exactly that that password was, it was impossible to navigate the network without tripping all sorts of alert triggers.

The bad news for Kynes was that he just happened to be that hacker.

Matarl was greedy by nature. The Rutian had his grubby fingerprints into almost every piece of software his former superior had ever written, and always made sure he had a way back in. So when he was helping her design the security interface, the Rutian secretly added a special overloaded function call. It forced the program to do a sequence of queries into the database tables, including the one with the latest generated root password then send the result-set back to a specific port. The sequence of queries was structured so that any monitoring software would think that someone was only doing a regression check. It was the perfect back door...or so he hoped. Matarl's hacking skills _were_ somewhat rusty from disuse.

With bated breath, the Twi'lek invoked his secret function the way he remembered it, entering a false security code, flipping two dials and pressing the reset button on the console at the same time. After a few seconds, a sequence of text began flashing on the screen. It was reporting the root password.

_So far so good_, he thought. No alerts had been raised. Sweat beaded down his brow as he brought up the security system's login screen on his hacking tool. He copied the code from the console and put it into the login field. Then with a silent prayer, he pressed 'confirm'. There was a long tense moment when nothing happened. Matarl felt his panic rise, thinking he _had_ been detected. But then his eyes lit up when the screen flashed blue and said: _++adminstrator password accepted. Logged in as root++_

_Yes!_

He was in. He literally had full access to the security network. With this gateway, he could access the base's cameras, disable sensors…anything. Matarl was quietly gloating over his supposed victory when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

_No!_

He was caught. Matarl's first instinct was to shout out in denial but a clammy hand smothered his mouth and spun him roughly around. He came head to head with a hideous creature, its face a ruin of twisted flesh and scars. His expression was feral but there was still the spark of cunning in its crimson eyes. Matarl realized he resembled one of the many followers Victus had under him during their first meeting.

_They-they're here already…_

Matarl should have been happy he supposed. But the knowledge he was in another monster's clutches again hardly comforted him. The hideous thing pressed a bony finger to its lips.

"Scream and I'll pop your head off like a boil," hissed the monster in barely comprehensible galactic standard.

Matarl managed to give a shaky nod when his eyes widened in surprise. Dozens of new figures emerged into his peripheral view.

Each newcomer had the mark of blight on them, their skin palsied and bloated like dead fish. They looked eerily similar, distinguished only by major mutations. Extra teeth, mismatched eyes… Truly Matarl was caught amongst the lost and the damned.

And behind them. Behind them all stood someone he had never hoped to see again.

_Malleus..._

The Sith Lord was as Matarl remembered in his waking nightmares, bedecked head to toe in his patchwork of amalgamated skin and flesh, every facet stitched with an expression of torment. His own flesh hung loosely like a cobweb of decaying maggots. But most frightening of all were the eyes, His eyes burned with horrors that the Rutian could only guess at. Something was different though. In their first meeting, his head had been clear, albeit filled with terror. But now the Rutian felt...dazed when looking at the Sith Lord. There was something digging into his head like white noise, a senseless chatter that confounded his thought. As Matarl tried to focus, Malleus turned his head and sniffed the air.

"They are here..." Malleus gurgled, his voice coming from the bottom of a pit. The Sith Lord's expression was distant, as if he was observing something only he could see. But then his ruined lips curled up into what passed for a smile.

"Good,"

His subordinates seemed equally pleased. The Rutian could practically smell the stink of their bloodlust, a pungent musk that choked his senses. Somehow, he managed to muster the courage and ask his captor a question.

"How...how did you find me?"

The monster holding him sneered. "How do you think? We can hear your insipid thoughts a mile away,"

Before Matarl could reply, Malleus' subordinate spun him around again and pointed to the console he was hacking.

"Where is the _vault?_" It demanded in a hissing lisp.

"Vault?" Matarl paused. His memories of this place were hazy at best and he definitely didn't remember anything about a vault.

"I-I'm not su-"

The aspirant hoisted him up by his neck. "Be sure," snarled the madman, shaking him violently. "Where is the most protected area in their wretched sanctum?"

Matarl gurgled incoherently within the monster's iron grip, his legs kicking air. Before the monster could suffocate him to death, Malleus whispered two words.

"Unhand him"

Reluctantly, Malleus' slave tossed Matarl to the ground, letting the Rutian gasp in breaths of air. He felt Malleus' unpleasant scrutiny for a lingering moment before the Sith Lord said. "You have been to the base before,"

"On-on a few m-missions" Matarl stuttered, picking himself up. "But that was years ago. I don't remember anything about a vault."

As he dusted himself off, Matarl realized something else was wrong.

"Where is Victus?" he asked.

Malleus ignored the question. Instead, he pointed to his discarded hacking tool. "Find it,"

Matarl hesitated. This was definitely not going as planned. Victus said his Cult would help him tear Lucidae and his allies apart. But now they were demanding access to a vault that probably didn't exist. Were they really here for his enemies? How could he even be sure Thalia was here? Not for the first time, Matarl was beginning to regret his choices.

Malleus seemed to sense his unease because the Sith Lord changed tact. With a malicious smile he asked.

"Victus promised you revenge, did he not?"

"Yes…" Matarl said cautiously. "He said that if I helped him, the ones I hate most would suffer,"

"And he was right. Your goal runs parallel to our own. Bring us to the vault, and you will find your revenge,"

Matarl puzzled over the words. "Are you saying…they will be at this...vault?"

Malleus said nothing, but the glint in his eyes was all the confirmation he needed. Still, Matarl was wary.

"How can I trust you? How do I even know that harlot is on this rock?"

The Sith Lord laughed, a horrible choking sound as if the question was pathetically simple. Eventually he said

"You don't. But at this point, what do you have to lose? Is it so hard to believe your target lies within your grasp?"

With deadly promise, Malleus walked up to him. His proximity made Matarl feel even more nauseous and the back of his head started to hurt.

"We told you that your former associates would be on this planet and they are here. Why would I spend so much effort to orchestrate this…reunion unless it was guaranteed to happen?"

A bony hand came up to grab him by the chin and Matarl was forced to look the Sith Lord in the eye.

"Have faith Matarl. Today…we are united in our hate for a common foe."

The fiery gaze split through his soul, laying it bare for Malleus' inspection. At that moment, Matarl felt an iota of the other man's being, a hate so pure and potent, it blotted out all thoughts of doubt. Something in the back of his mind screamed for not to accept this devil's bargain, that it would only bring ruin. But then the voice died, swept away by the black tide that was Malleus hate.

_Revenge…yes. Nothing else matters._

Slowly, Matarl nodded and Malleus let him go. He turned back to the console.

"I'll…I'll try to download the station's schematics and see if there are any locations that match your description. But it's going to take me a few minutes to step around the security protocols so I don't draw attention."

Malleus said nothing. But as the Rutian turned around to resume his work, the Sith Lord said something that was equal parts assurance and threat.

"I know you won't disappoint me,"

* * *

"Ajunta Pall," Revan muttered under his breath, rolling the words in his mouth. The very name sounded like athema to him.

He remembered reading about him in passing from one of the many history tombs he had poured through as an initiate. Details of Ajunta Pall had been scarce but definitive. A former Jedi that lived three thousand years ago, the charismatic leader led a devastating revolt against the Order in what became known as the Hundred Years of Darkness. The war had been intense and protracted, with the enemy unleashing horrible powers that decimated the Jedi ranks. Ajunta Pall and his armies had only been defeated through sheer attrition and the superior numbers of the Republic. Despite the victory, irreparable damage had been done with many loyalist killed and worlds ruined. With their resources exhausted, the Order and Republic could not afford to keep the survivors contained, nor could they simply cull them from their ranks. Eventually it was decided by the council to put them into exile. And then…well…Revan knew what happened then. What the texts didn't say was why.

Revan had asked his Masters what had motivated Ajunta Pall to rebel against the order. What possible reason could he have to turn his back on the Republic he once swore to protect? The Masters had not taken his questioning kindly. They had subsequently banned him from reading any material that referenced the traitor and forbade him from uttering that name to anyone again.

Disheartened, the Jedi was left with more questions than answers. He eventually concluded that Ajunta Pall's crimes were simply too monumental to categorize.

The Jedi raised his head from his musings and noticed that Lucidae was studying him intently at the moment. It made him feel strange.

"As curious as it is that Malleus' minions would utter that name," Revan said slowly "the question I find more important is their actions."

He fixed Lucidae with a stare of his own then.

"Victus did much the same as Thalia described. But why does Malleus and his cult raid and capture people like them? Is it sow terror and dissension among the citizens of the Republic? Are these deviants really so sadistic that they would go out their way to make someone's life that miserable?"

Lucidae stared silently at him for a few moments as if trying to frame the proper response. Eventually he said softly.

"The truth Revan? I cannot tell you with certainty. The motivations of the Reborn are almost as elusive as their origins."

He stood up and began walking along the huge racks of jars, observing their contents with shaded eyes. Each jar looked almost identical: a blackened and somewhat shrivelled ball of flesh, immersed in a viscous blue brine.

"That's not to say I haven't uncovered many...revelations. In fact, I have devised several theories to the purpose of their activities. "

Revan walked next to Lucidae with mounting disquiet, wondering just what all these organs came from. He was about to ask when the other man said.

"What is undisputed though is that Malleus and his brood are a grave threat to the Republic that must be stopped. It is why I have been hunting him for the better half of a decade."

He turned towards the younger man suddenly and said.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself again. You wanted to know why I left the Order. Well as Thalia said, their warship was boarded and the surviving crew taken prisoner. By the time the remaining expedition noticed their absence, the attackers had long since disappeared. Rescue teams that boarded their ruined flagship found hundreds of mutilated carcasses…their admiral among them."

The former Jedi Master stopped to inspect another specimen. This time, Revan could see it contained something that looked like a gigantic black eel. It writhed unnaturally within its confines.

"Needless to say, the Army was devastated. Not only had they lost an admiral, there were almost two hundred crew members unaccounted for with no trace of the enemy. High command immediately assembled a taskforce to search for the culprits and they petitioned the aid of the Jedi Order to lead the investigation. Coincidentally their request was forwarded to me, as I happened to be closest member in that region. Back then, I still held the rank of Master so I managed to requisition a score of Jedi Knights for this endeavour. Due to the severity of this mission, the Army provided one of their fastest ships along with four squads of tactical veterans and one of their top special agents. That was when I met Shan for the first time."

Revan raised an eyebrow "Who?"

Lucidae stopped before realized his mistake and smiled. "Forgive me, I keep forgetting that she doesn't like people using her real name. I am only allowed to use it due to familiarity."

He began walking again before speaking, his face bathed in the eerie green glow of the glass tubes.

"Kynes is a codename our sniper used when she was still serving the army. Her real name is Shan. Well...her surname. Nobody knows her first, not even T'shere."

"Wait," said Revan, and raising his hands. "You're saying Kynes was active more than a decade ago as special agent? She doesn't look a day over twenty five."

The smile remained in the other man's eyes. "I assure you, Shan was on that mission with me. She is a _lot_ older than many people think. After all, nobody is who they seem to be are they?"

There was something about the way Lucidae said the last part which made him feel uncomfortable. He still didn't believe the outrageous claim though .

"Did Kynes have rejuvenation treatment? Special surgery to keep her active?" Revan asked doubtfully.

"Perhaps, but that is not why she looks so young," Lucidae gave Revan a thoughtful look.

"Would it surprise you to know that Shan…or Kynes as you prefer to call her possesses the same abilities as a Jedi?"

Revan considered the question for a moment, thinking back to their first encounter in the alley. "I suppose not, she's shown very good reaction time and accuracy. Qualities normally found in our initiates."

Lucidae nodded. "Exactly. She possesses a very strong affinity with the Force, although it's hard to detect partly due to her secretive nature. Kynes graduated first from the academy with near perfect marksmanship scores. Her instructors thought she was a savant due to her off-putting nature, but the reason Kynes has such eerie precision is because the woman has the ability to anticipate the target's movements before they even know what will happen. Her senses are so well honed, she can predict the trajectory a bullet will take, after ricocheting off different surfaces. Hence the nickname T'shere gave her: 'Trickster'. And her service records lists many improbable but successful assassinations, in no small part due to this ability."

He pointed to his own face, which could have been chiseled from marble, a heroic figure from ages past.

"Like many Jedi, her connection gives her a sense of timelessness in her features, a vibrancy that no physical surgery can duplicate."

"That does make sense." Revan admitted as the pieces fell into place. He had always thought there was something off about the sniper but he had thought it was because she had the emotional range of a droid on botox. But now he understood the source of his discomfort. Revan gave the other man a thoughtful stare.

"Go on"

"Very well." Said Lucidae and they continued walking.

"With the taskforce assembled, we took a cruiser and began our search at the source of the carnage. My team found unusual signs of recent hyperspace activity within the region, but the energy levels were too decayed for a definitive point of origin. The expedition wasn't much help either since no other ship actually _saw_ any attack. With no solid lead, we made short jumps around the sector, hoping to find some trace of the same signature. But as you can imagine, it was like looking for an atom in a bottomless ocean. We persisted though, and by some stroke of fortune, Kyne's surveillance grid eventually detected an anomalous signal during one of our frequent stops."

"Thalia's distress beacon," Revan surmised.

"Correct. Kynes insisted the distress signal was authentic so our ship followed it to the point of origin: Darith. It was the first time I had ever lain eyes on this planet but I could tell even from orbit that there was a cancer in its very core. We had just transitioned into real space when High Command sent us a communiqué ordering us to stand down. I requested an explanation to which they informed me that the planet belonged to the Hutts and hence out of the Republic's jurisdiction."

Revan nodded. Although nobody in the Army would ever admit it, there was an unofficial truce between them and the outlaw worlds that belonged to the Hutt's criminal empire. Effectively, both sides agreed to non-aggression. In exchange for significant payoffs, the Army turned a blind eye to their dark business so long as Hutts didn't make their…'activies' too overt.

This pact however, was not recognized by the Jedi Order. Revan said as much and Lucidae mouth twisted into a faint grin.

"Precisely. And with so many hostages at stake, the back-alley dealings of the Army meant little to me. So despite High Command's protests, I ordered the ship to make planetfall without one dissenting voice on my team. We traced the source of the beacon to a dockyard in the northern continent, with our ship landing just beyond its outskirts. When I stepped onto Darith's blighted soil, I was immediately flooded by the sensation of torment and unspeakable anguish. My empathy told me we were close to our goal, but there was too much interference from our sensors to get a good readout of the region. Kynes was sent to scout the landscape and look for hostiles."

Revan noticed they had walked to a row of droids who were busy inspecting what looked like an air-tight glass box. His eyebrows narrowed when he realized it contained the _Praeconer Oblivio, _the malevolent substance buzzing like a locust of black flies. The Jedi didn't feel particularly comfortable being so close to something that had flensed a living being into paste, especially without proper containment. Lucidae didn't seem to notice his discomfort as he continued talking.

"My point man…or woman in this case eventually reported back that the docks consisted of a series of warehouses surrounded by metal storage crates and a control tower. Kynes believed the signal originated from one of the warehouses. She also estimated around two score of hostiles within the vicinity. The warehouses were lightly guarded with some armed guards and what she described as 'savages' dressed in other people's flesh."

"Abominations?" Revan ventured, using the term T'shere had described. Lucidae nodded.

"Kynes said the control tower itself was the heart of the operation since it was the most heavily fortified, entrenched with barbed wire, blaster turrets and redoubts. "

Lucidae paused for a moment as they came across one of the droid inspecting the black sample. The machine looked up and chattered something in what sounded like machine code. Revan couldn't make sense of it despite his linguistic skills but Lucidae seemed to understand.

"Give me the preliminary results," he said offhandedly before turning back to Revan.

"Based on the snippets of conversation she heard, these men had been 'preparing' their merchandise for the Hutts. I surmised that the captors were slavers looking to sell men and women into the flesh markets, but Kynes disagreed, saying she noticed some of the men guarding the tower had light sabers. Naturally I was concerned by this discovery but she was right. It was doubtful Sith would be engaged in something as trivial as selling slaves. Kynes wanted to lay waste to the enemy right away, but I decided it would be prudent to to investigate the Sith's true motives. I asked Kynes to take me to the warehouse where the distress beacon originated. And with her stealth skills, we managed to elude the guards and break in, which was the easy part. But what we saw after...that tested our constitution to its limits."

The experience plainly disturbed the former Master as a dark pall took over his features. Revan waited patiently for him to continue.

"I tell you Revan, you could scarce believe the brutality…the sheer depravity we saw in those warehouses. The men, women and children we found... they were literally treated like livestock. Caged so tightly that their hands were stuck beyond the bars. The smell of rot, piss and blood was overpowering, and the constant din of wails and groans was enough to drive a man mad. By the look of them, the hostages were left for days without food or sustenance and to my horror, it seemed a few had turned to eating their own fingers. Other prisoners were even more severely maimed, deprived of arms and legs."

Before he came to this planet, Revan would have thought the man was exaggerating. But having seeing Victus and his excesses, he could well believe it.

"When they looked at us, I could tell we were too late to save them. They were already dead inside. The scene was so horrifying, I had to drag Kynes out the door as she retched all over the floor."

If Kynes was disturbed, then it _definitely_ was bad. "What did you two do then?" Revan asked when the other man collected himself.

"Commendably, Kynes got past the initial shock fairly quickly and decided we couldn't let this travesty continue any longer. With cold steel in her eyes, she coordinated the bulk of our forces into strategic positions around the docks. When they were in place we launched a multi pronged assault, the Jedi and soldiers coming in from the main entrance while she and her scouts struck from the rooftops. Our forces took the guards completely by surprise. We ripped through the scattered ranks with flamers, blasters and slashing blades, cutting them down like wheat in a field. It was a grim methodical slaughter but performed cleanly and efficiently."

The same droid Lucidae talked to walked back again and handed him a grey tablet. Lucidae took it and nodded to the machine, who then went back to its work.

"Our surprise attack allowed us to gain a solid foothold across the dock perimeter, but the enemy wasn't entirely helpless. They consolidated around the control tower where their forces were heavily entrenched. I could see at least a dozen men dressed like Sith milling behind scores of their slaves."

Lucidae began perusing the contents of his tablet as he talked,

"While Kynes picked off the guards, I led the Jedi in a frontal charge against the trenches, and this time, the fighting was much more intense. Under the barking threats of the supposed Sith, the slave soldiers fired coordinated volleys of blaster fire at us, a veritable crimson tide. Our lightsabers were proof against such attacks though and we cut through the first line of defenders easily. When it became clear their guns were having little effect, the enemy changed tactics. The leaders began whipping the slaves closest to them like cattle and forced them to charge in our direction. To my surprise I noticed these slaves wore naval uniforms. They were sending their own hostages at us. At first I thought the Sith were simply trying to dissuade our advance, but when they came near..."

He trailed off again.

"Let me guess," said Revan, remembering how the extremes Malleus Cult would go to for victory. "The Cult strapped the hostages with explosives and used them as walking time bombs,"

The other man didn't respond for a moment other than to give the slightest of nods.

"The sight was unbelievable. The prisoners simply came apart in front of us in a shower of guts, blood and gore. I can still see the looks of horror and accusation on their faces."

Lucidae didn't look much better than Thalia now, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. Revan stayed respectfully silent.

"Forgive me, I often brood upon those that I couldn't save. I won't burden you with the details but we managed to fend off these… 'assaults'. It pains to admit though that the Cult killed many good warriors that day with their tactics. Force, it still seems like I lost more comrades in that one battle than I in my entire career as a Jedi Knight…but despite this, we didn't falter."

The former Master's voice became stronger then as he forced himself to relive the experience.

"With cover fire the Jedi pushed the enemy back into their tower at a steep price, bit by agonizing bit. By the time we had reached the building's interior, most of the Jedi had fallen. Blown to bits or sliced into ribbons by the Cult's elite. Those that survived were too maimed or injured to press on. By the time we finished purging the majority of the hostiles, only Kynes, a handful of soldiers and I remained relatively unscathed."

_Relatively unscathed?_ _Does that mean you made your comrades die for you?_

Revan remained silent, choosing to let Lucidae finish his story.

"We eventually made our way to the central control room on the top floor. It was locked from the inside so Kynes hotwired the doors and blew them apart. When the smoke cleared, we saw a few emancipated Abominations, surrounding a warrior that was as repulsive as he was deadly. When I looked at the wretch, he smiled and I knew we had found our quarry."

"Malleus?" Asked Revan

"No, Victus. Malleus as it turned out had left long before we arrived, although I did not know who the man in front of us was at the time. "

"So you crossed blades with the fiend as well," Revan mused. He recalled his own battle with the madman. Victus was probably the deadliest opponent he had ever faced, possessing cruelty, cunning and skill in equal order.

"Yes. The fighting was intense. Kynes and her troupe laid waste to the helots, while I engaged Victus in single combat. Having fought him yourself, I imagine you know how dangerous he is. We traded blows for many minutes with neither gaining the upper hand since my allies didn't intervene for fear of hitting me. But the fight eventually ended with one telling blow, after I took the Victus' arm off the joint. He collapsed on the ground, flopping like a fish out of water shrieking in pain and ecstasy."

Revan raised an eyebrow. "You were the one that took off Victus' arm."

Lucidae nodded. "I was,"

"And you're telling me you had him within your grip and but didn't kill him?"

There was a hint of accusation in his tone but the other man didn't seem offended.

"Victus was defeated. Literally disarmed, he had no way of defending himself. As a Jedi, I was honour bound to take him hostage."

He hesitated then before admitting in a low tone.

"Unfortunately, I under-estimated his constitution. As I lowered my weapon and demanded his surrender, Victus threw something into the air. An explosive of some sort. It brought the entire ceiling collapsing on top of us. I must have blacked out then because the next thing I saw was Kynes lifting rubble off me. She told me Victus had disappeared. We sent out search parties later, but never found any trace of him again."

Revan eyes narrowed at Lucidae's admission, feeling his anger rise. Lucidae had the perfect chance to kill Victus and he pissed it away.

"You should have ended his wretched life when you had the chance," he growled. "You saw the atrocities Victus committed. Such filth has no place in the natural order of things"

Lucidae gave him a stern glance. "No matter what his actions were Revan, he was still a prisoner of war. Killing him in cold blood would not change the fact that the hostages were dead. Only vindicate his wretched kind's philosophy that the Jedi are no better than they are."

"If you kill most of the cancer but let some of it live, it will only come back to kill again." replied Revan coldly. "Sometimes, doing the right thing means getting your hands dirty"

"Is that what you would have done?" asked Lucidae quietly. "Kill a defenceless man?"

The Jedi felt his shoulders stiffen, as memories of his trial flooded back. He answered cautiously. "Perhaps at one point, I would have shown mercy. But no longer."

"Really?" said Lucidae. By then the pair had walked back to their point of origin and the former Master took a seat before asking. "Then tell me Revan, what event caused you to become so jaded?"

"I..." Revan hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal. Eventually he settled for a half truth. "I suppose it's because throughout my life, I am entrusted me to do things that other Jedi may not have the stomach for. Sometimes I need to do things my comrades would find...distasteful."

"Is that why you chose to lash at out Victus and his troupe alone without waiting for reinforcements? Because you couldn't entrust others with your self imposed burden?" This time it was Lucidae who sounded accusatory.

"It was not a matter or trust," replied Revan defensively. "My mission was in jeopardy and it necessitated my immediate intervention. And truthfully it was better to work alone in that situation. Victus had superior numbers and I needed a setting where I could take them by surprise without external interference."

"Stealth and guile serve their purposes." Agreed the master. "Yet strength of arms and unity of purpose are equally important, especially to a Jedi Knight. Members of your rank and station are meant to guide your comrades at the forefront, to lead by example."

"If you say so," Revan said dismissively. Clearly the two had vastly different approaches to their craft. He could tell Lucidae and his first Master would not have gotten along.

"Often times, the most effective warriors are the ones that are never seen. I have no intention of using tactics that paints a target on my forehead,"

Lucidae sensed the younger man's stubbornness to and changed tact. "Would it surprise you that I frequently claimed to the other Masters in our debates that the average Sith is a better warrior than a Jedi Knight?" He asked suddenly.

Revan was caught momentarily off guard by the question. "I would say that is daring generalization," he replied eventually.

"When you think about it, my statement rings true. Sith are more violent and devote more time to practicing the art of killing. Whereas Jedi looks inward to self contemplation and harmony in all things.

Lucidae stressed the last sentence before continuing.

"_Harmony _Revan, unity of purpose. These are qualities that must be central to the tenants of the Jedi Knights. The Order has changed over time, but it was a _fraternity_ first and foremost, a shining example of what can be achieved when great beings find common ground. The greatest weapon of a Jedi Knight is not strength of arms or individual martial prowess. It is the ability to inspire, to draw strength from one another. When a Jedi stands united with their allies, no foe in the galaxy can stand before them."

Before Revan could reply Lucidae gave him a level stare. "Do you remember the oath bequeathed to you when you were first elevated?"

"Yes..." Revan remembered the ceremony where a myriad of Masters had come to formally recognize his new rank. His memory was hazy and for some reason his head hurt to think about that time, but he did remember Vandar looking up at him proudly, even while he knelt in humble supplication.

The venerable Master had said something to him then and it was with those words he felt a real connection with his diminutive mentor. He repeated them now.

"_He who stands with me today, shall be my comrade in arms forever. Divided we fall, but together we are unstoppable," _

Lucidae nodded at the recital.

"Fine words. And true. If you had accepted our help and waited instead of striking out own your own, I imagine you would have had an easier time accomplishing your objective"

"Or they would have jeopardized themselves needlessly and ended up as corpses." retorted Revan. He was annoyed at the other Lucidae's presumption that he could lecture him like he was one of his students back at the temple, "In the end, the weapon was retrieved and the only casualties were the enemy's. What difference does it make how victory was gained?"

Lucidae sighed. He stood up then and paced the ground with his hands behind his back. For many moments he simply walked back and forth as if trying to find the best way to approach an immovable object. Finally he turned back to look at Revan straight in the face.

"Do you take pride in your craft Revan? Do you feel your skill which by all accounts is remarkable, elevates you beyond others of similar status?"

Revan didn't really know how to answer that. He always tried to tell himself that he was no more special than anybody else in the order, but deep down, he knew that was a lie. There was a reason the Masters constantly chose him for such dangerous missions, why he had been selected for their special attentions.

Lucidae took Revan's hesitance as confirmation of his suspicions.

"No matter how good you may think yourself to be Revan, there will always be someone that is stronger, faster or smarter than you. It is simply the way of things. One day you will meet a foe that you cannot defeat. Perhaps it will be in a duel. Or in a battlefield where you are overwhelmed by countless hordes of enemies. But one day, you will meet your match. And on that day, you will want to be supported by allies. You will want to be amongst friends who will give you strength to overcome the final hurdle."

"I do not shy away from aid when needed," replied Revan in annoyance. "And yes I recognize there will be foes greater than me and that it requires a certain humility to know when you are outmatched. But how can one remain humble when so many people depend on you? You say Jedi bring unity, they inspire. But by that very definition, they must be greater than those they lead to bring forth such emotions."

He gave out a mirthless laugh.

"Perhaps that is why so many Jedi are never humble. Their supposed greatness necessitates them to be confident to the point of arrogance."

Lucidae nodded slowly. "There is truth in what you say Revan. To be a good leader takes certain a amount of self confidence and charisma. But the mark of a great leader is not in denying that they are greater than those around them, but in admitting that by fighting together, one is so much more than the sum of their parts."

Lucidae placed a hand on his shoulder. Revan could feel the weight of responsibility in his palm even as the Master looked him straight in the eye.

"You have a choice Revan. You can continue to be the consummate loner, striking fear into the hearts of your enemies until someone like Victus ends your life. Or you can choose to be a leader of men, to be the epitome of your station. I assure you, the lasting impact from the latter will be greater than you will ever know."

Revan stared at him for a few moments then shrugged the other man's hand off. Perhaps it was his wounded pride talking, but he didn't feel particularly open to advice at the moment.

"I appreciate the advice," he said coldly. "but respectfully, you are not a Master and certainly not mine."

Lucidae seemed disappointed by his reaction and turned away. "No...I suppose I'm not,"


	24. Chapter 24 Secrets Part 3

_I am his coiled fist, his right hand of justice. The saviour from ignorance and blight. I am the end._

_-Malleus, Corrupter of Souls_

* * *

The door exploded in a spectacular display of splinted wood and debris.

The nearest guards whipped their heads in alarm at the carnage and raised their blasters instinctively...then lowered them when they realized it wasn't a threat.

Or so they hoped.

Through the settling dust strode their furious and buxom commander. The air around her warped and teared like a hurricane, cracking tiles and ruining the walls as she marched. The Arkanian's fury showed as plainly as her voluptuous breasts, heaving angrily throughout the rampage.

T'shere was having what many of the rank and file referred to as an 'episode', where her fury literally manifested as a whirlwind of destruction, ripping everything in its path. None of the guards nearby dared to ask her if anything was wrong, for fear of being an inadvertent target of their commander's wrath. Instead they hastily got out of her way and hid behind doors and furniture, hoping the storm would pass them unmolested. With everyone scrambling away, the livid female managed to reach her chambers unchallenged. Once inside, she slammed her door closed with a thundering crack, the frames splintering into a thousand spidery webs.

Having reclused herself, T'shere stalked the room like a caged animal, venting her anger every few moments by knocking over a chair or punching a fist into the wall. If she had an Ewok, T'shere would have snapped its neck off like a twig and gutted it's face for a mask. The sounds of violence did not go unnoticed, but calls of concern from the people outside were only met with a very decisive "Go away!" or more violent epithets.

Eventually, the red haze cleared her eyes and she stopped her rampage. Her room had become an utter ruin: broken equipment, torn clothing, food painting every wall. Exhausted, T'shere collapsed onto her bed breathlessly and smothered her face into a pillow. Her feral expression was slowly replaced by guilt.

_I shouldn't have behaved like that in front of everyone. _

Her latest outburst worried her. It wasn't just that she found the Jedi insufferable, her rages were coming more often now and with increased intensity. Worse, she had not only embarrassed herself, but her mother and Lucidae as well.

_Something is wrong with me_, she thought in fright. T'shere could normally hone her temper with meditation, but even that didn't help anymore. She wanted to confide to someone about her problem, but like always, she was afraid to do so. The only thing she could do was hide her fear in a mask of bitterness and fury.

What would the soldiers think of her if she showed weakness? Or worse, her family? Nobody wanted a commander that was unhinged. If she admitted it, Lucidae would strip her of command and cast her aside.

_I can't fail again… I can't._

Her thoughts of despair were interrupted by a tapping on the door. T'shere glared at it, wondering who was foolish enough to interrupt her brooding.

"T'shere?" came Mysteel's sing song voice, confirming her suspicions.

"It's me, you're favourite sister."

Silence

"I know you're in there. I can see the path of your destruction."

"Unless someone's dying, go away!" T'shere threatened behind the door.

"But I'm lonely!" came her sister's reply.

The Arkanian grimaced. Mysteel was probably coming to fetch her back so she could be reprimanded by Lucidae. T'shere was in no mood to deal with that so she ignored the plea, thinking the Twi'lek would eventually go away. Her hopes were rewarded with the sound of Mysteel's fading footsteps. The Arkanian sighed and closed her eyes, thinking to drift into weary slumber. She very nearly did until a faint rattling sound outside the door caught her attention and her eyes snapped open.

_Someone's breaking in..._

Even as T'shere registered the thought, her door swung wide.

Mysteel entered, followed closely by Kynes. The sniper was obviously the main culprit to the break-in, sporting a needle in one hand and a pair of makeshift pliers in the other. T'shere glared accusingly at the human female who looked as impassive as ever.

"She asked," Kynes said simply.

"Get out, both of you," the Arkanian growled. "Before you both contract an accidental and fatal case of 'light saber through the bowels'"

Kynes simply rolled her eyes. But Mysteel gave her a meaningful look so the sniper shrugged and walked out the door. The two sisters were left alone in awkward silence. One eyed the other with undisguised hostility while the other tried to look like nothing was amiss.

"Well?" T'shere asked eventually.

"You left so suddenly, I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall down the toilet," Mysteel remarked lightly. Without asking for T'shere's permission, she walked to her sister's plush bed and hopped on, bouncing up and down the mattress playfully. T'shere was not amused.

"Go. Away." she growled.

"Not until you tell me what's got your panties in a twist," her sister replied firmly as she came to rest. She folded her arms beneath her breasts like Thalia did when she scolded them as children. T'shere snorted.

"Is mother too busy to do this herself?" the silver haired woman turned her back from the bed.

"Don't bother. You wouldn't understand."

"Has that ever stopped me?" said Mysteel cheerfully.

Her persistence was beginning to rankle on T'shere's nerves. She rounded back on her sister angrily.

"How would you like it if I made you spill your secrets?" T'shere snarled.

"I'd probably be mad," Mysteel admitted. "which is why, cleverly, I have no secrets,"

She smiled at her own quip but her attempt at humor was coldly rebuffed. Another awkward silence descended upon them until Mysteel asked timidly.

"Is this about Revan?"

His name brought another flare of anger within the Arkanian.

"Of course it's about him!" she replied scornfully, walking up to her miraculously undamaged table. Her nails left gauges into the woodwork as she clenched her fists on the surface.

"The entire world appears to revolve around that wretched human. Ever since the Jedi arrived, everyone preens over him like he is the greatest thing since plutonium!"

Before Mysteel could respond, T'shere grabbed a cracked mug off the counter and shook it.

"Revan could piss in this cup and people would call it wine. I give the cold hard truth and am rewarded with ridicules and dismissal."

The Twi'lek gave an uncomfortable chuckle at the joke, until she realized T'shere was being deadly serious.

"That's silly," Mysteel said soothingly, getting up and discretely walking to the other side of the table so T'shere wouldn't try and throw it. "Sure, we're trying to be good hosts, but that doesn't mean we don't listen to you anymore. You're just being paranoid like usual."

"Am I?" T'shere snapped, giving her sister a challenging look while pointing an accusing finger. "Then why are you always taking his side, bending over backwards to attend to his every whim?"

"Well I have to. He's got great hair." Mysteel replied flippantly, hoping to at least get a smile. But with T'shere's nonexistent humor, it was a futile gesture at best.

"Then there's Lucidae," T'shere raged on. "Look at him, consorting with the enemy! Sometimes I think he forgets which side his allegiance is on! After all we've learned, why in the Force would he be stupid enough to trust a Jedi anymore?"

The image of her former Master showering favor on the Jedi was too much. With a wordless growl she threw the cup alarmingly close to Mysteel. The Twi'lek squeaked in surprise as she ducked under the table.

There was a loud crack as the projectile shattered into a million pieces, but the image T'shere held in her mind's eye remained.

Nervously, Mysteel peeked from under the furniture, not knowing what to say that wouldn't get her face smashed in.

"He's starting an outreach program?" she ventured.

T'shere didn't seem to hear, continuing to glare accusingly at the wall as she struggled to maintain her composure. Almost unconsciously, she whispered.

"I know why Lucidae is doing this."

Her rage dimmed slightly then and T'shere hung her head to the floor.

"It's obvious from the look in his eyes. I just didn't want to admit it," There was a resentment in her tone Mysteel had not heard before.

"He favors that wretch like his own pupil. Revan is the student he wished he had all those years past. Not some failure..."

Mysteel was shocked at the words. T'shere never talked about her expulsion, but the Twi'lek had learned enough to know that her sister was unfairly treated. But evidently, T'shere felt Lucidae thought less of her because of it.

"Sis, you know he doesn't see you like that." Mysteel crept out of her hiding place and dared to put out a comforting hand on the Arkanian's shoulder.

"Lucidae explained the accident to us all. It wasn't your fault."

T'shere felt her gut wrench at the words. It was the exact same ones Lucidae had used after the accident. When the Arkanian closed her eyes at night, she could still see the condescending looks the Masters gave her as they passed judgement over her crime. She remembered the shame, the burning tears that trickled down her cheeks as she just stood there, as helpless as the day her Master found her. Lucidae had shown her kindness, standing by her throughout the entire trial but T'shere would never forget that look he had when the tribunal pronounced their verdict.

The memory triggered another surge of anger in her.

"_Don't patronize me!"_ T'shere shrieked, clawing away from her sister's touch. Mysteel recoiled with a wounded look.

"You're just as bad as he is, trying to talk down to me like I'm some-some invalid!"

T'shere rounded on her sister then and growled.

"I know what everyone says about me. That I'm some unstable wreck who melts down every time a breeze blows my way! And Lucidae only gave me command of Aethon because he feels _sorry_ for me. _Sorry!_"

_Pity is death to receive._

T'shere used that thought to fuel her anger as she spat the next words out like venom

"Well guess what? I don't need his pity! And I definitely don't need _yours_!"

T'shere didn't realize it, but her eyes were filled with tears. The eyeliner streaked down her face, mingling to stain her cheeks black. Mysteel's own face was filled with a conflict of emotions.

"I…"

For once, it was the Twi'lek who was at a loss for words. Rarely had she seen T'shere so enraged. She knew once T'shere got to this stage, she would stubbornly cling to her point of view until it was ripped from her cold dead fingers. Anything Mysteel did right now would only make things worse.

"...I should go," Mysteel finished sadly. Sometimes a storm was simply too great to challenge. It was better to let it subside on its own. She started turning for the door but T'shere wouldn't let her have the last word.

"That's right, _leave_!" she yelled at her back. "You're all going to do so eventually! Why waste any more time on someone as messed up as me? Just go! All of you!"

Mysteel had just reached the door when her face scrunched up in confusion at the strange choice of words. Then suddenly, she stopped and turned back with a look of understanding.

"I know what this is about!" the Twi'lek exclaimed with mounting excitement

"You're not angry at Revan. You're afraid what will happen because of him!"

T'shere looked momentarily surprised before her typical scowl reasserted itself.

"What the hell are you babbling about?" she snapped.

"Leaving! You think Lucidae, mother and I will abandon you for him!"

From T'shere's increasingly alarmed expression, the Twi'lek knew she had hit a nerve. The Twi'lek walked up quickly to her sister.

"That's silly! We're not trading him for you! We're family!" Mysteel tried to take one of T'shere's hands but she flinched away. Mysteel gave her a patient smile.

"And there isn't anything wrong with you T'shere. I love you just the way you are."

The honest confession from the Twi'lek resounded in the Arkanian deeply. For a moment, it looked like T'shere mask would crack but she forced her emotions back in.

"No, you don't." she croaked in whispery voice. "You think I'm a terrible person. You're always telling me how mean I am."

"Of course I do you big silly meany head," said Mysteel playfully. "but that's one of the things I love about you."

She enveloped her sister in a hug. T'shere tried to resist but it was half hearted. Eventually she gave up.

"I love your hot temper." whispered Mysteel as she kissed T'shere's tears away.

"I love how you always say what's on your mind." she murmured, smoothing T'shere's hair gently.

"And I even love your big scary fun bags, which can put any prostitute to shame."

Mysteel palmed T'shere's face so she could stare deep into the Arkanian's beautiful mercury eyes. She smiled.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is. I love you just the way you are."

As the Twi'lek looked knowingly into her, it became too much for the Arkanian. All the fear, the hidden emotions she was bottling up for the past years, it all came into the forefront. Without warning her eyes teared up again and she began to cry in earnest. She gripped Mysteel in a desperate hug of her own and sobbed into her shoulder, big wet tears streaming down her already black stained cheeks. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity before Mysteel guided her gently to the bed so she could lie down. When they sat, T'shere lay down and put her weary head on Mysteel's lap. They stayed there for many minutes with T'shere sobbing quietly and Mysteel whispering soothing words into her sister's ear.

"I'm sorry," T'shere said eventually between sniffles. "I'm not a very good sister am I? I've always put the mission first before family. And I don't do anything for you,"

"That's not true," insisted Mysteel while she gently stroked her sister's hair "You've done plenty of things for me. Remember the time when we went swimming, but I was scared of the water? You said I could hold onto you because your breasts doubled as a floatation device"

T'shere managed a half choked laugh and curled even tighter. She felt like a huge burden had been lifted from her soul. For so long, T'shere held the terrifying prospect that her sister would abandon her like the Jedi had. But now, those fears were washed away like her tears.

_I'm being stupid. They would never leave me._

"Do you know the first time I really felt like we were sisters?" Mysteel asked suddenly.

T'shere glanced at her warily with red eyes. "No..."

"Back when we were fourteen," replied the Twi'lek wistfully. "You were showing me how to make a lightsaber."

"I remember," T'shere softly, a smile creeping onto her features.

"Then you remember out of nowhere, we had our periods at the same time? And both of us forgot to...well you know,"

The girls snickered at the memory, remembering the absolute mess they had made in the kitchen. Thalia had walked in on them while they were trying to clean up the blood.

"I can still see mom's face," T'shere said, a smile widening on her lips. "She thought we had killed someone and were trying to cover it up,"

"We couldn't stop laughing while she cried" agreed her sister.

Both of them chuckled until Mysteel said.

"But in all honesty, when our menstrual cycles synched, it was the most awesome moment of my life,"

This time, T'shere did laugh, a good natured laugh without doubt or bitterness. Mysteel's smile widened at the sight.

"That's what I like to see," she said. On an impulse, the Twi'lek began tickling the Arkanian with her tentacles and fingers. T'shere shrieked with delight and fought back, hitting Mysteel with a pillow. Naturally Mysteel retaliated with a pillow of her own. The girls started pummelling each other with the fluffy material, laughing all the while until they collapsed onto the bed breathless.

Both sisters faces were soaked with sweat, their breaths misting from the exertion. Eventually T'shere got off the bed,

"We should get out of here and find mother." she said in a slightly embarrassed voice. "Kynes probably has dozens secret cameras in this room. I don't want her to get the wrong idea,"

"You two tape each other? Kinky!" exclaimed Mysteel, as she stood up.

"Shut up!" said T'shere with a laugh, slapping her sister playfully on the shoulder. The Arkanian's face grew flustered for a moment as she struggled to find the right words to express her gratitude. Just saying thank you didn't seem enough.

"Tails?" she blurted out suddenly.

"Hmmmm?"

"Don't ever change,"

T'shere leaned in then and gave her sister a quick peck on the forehead. Mysteel responded by flashing the smile that had melted a thousand hearts.

"Thanks sis,"

* * *

"Where did you acquire all these...things?" asked Revan, pointing to the organs suspended within the metal cylinders.

He felt a tinge of guilt for his pettiness in rebuking the former Master earlier. Bitterness at his defeat had soured his words. Hoping to change the conversation, the Jedi focused on inspecting his bizzare surroundings.

"The _Malephagea_?" replied Lucidae, looking at the organs as well. The word was unfamiliar to the Jedi. "Most of them were recovered from various...engagements."

"You harvest your enemy's body parts? Like trophies?" Revan's eyes narrowed in accusation.

"They were dead when we extracted them," Lucidae seemed unperturbed by Revan's reaction.

"Dead or alive, it is a despicable practice."

"It is necessary to understand the enemy," said Lucidae calmly. "These…organs if you can call it that, are unique to the Reborn's recruits. Each _Malephagea_ I retrieve gives me a little more insight into the inner workings of their Cult,"

"Unique..." echoed Revan. "Are you saying the Cult are from a certain species?"

"No, as far as we can tell. There is no racial criteria for joining the Cult of the Reborn. " Said Lucidae, shaking his head.

"Human, Twi'lek, Bith it makes no difference. But through my investigations, I discovered that these organs only appear and mature after the recruits begin their...transformation,"

Revan stared at the items in question, wondering what possible function they had for the Cult. The organs looked...bloated, fibrous black muscles pulsating with a strange neon glow. Each one had different dimensions that somehow seemed offensive to the naked eye. In truth, they resembled bizarre tumors.

"And when did you discover that?" He asked eventually.

"As with everything, the greatest revelations happened during my first mission on this blighted planet," replied Lucidae. He walked up to the Jedi and glanced and the cylinders.

"Everything changed on the day I arrived on Darith. Aside from learning about Malleus' existence, I discovered a disturbing truth regarding him and the Jedi Order. A secret shame if you will. It was that discovery which started...all this"

Lucidae gestured to the room around them. Revan stared at him, wondering what terrible shame he could possibly be referring to.

"Maybe you should continue where you left off," he said eventually. "I assume you found Thalia eventually?"

The Master nodded. "If memory serves, it was shortly after the battle with Victus. We searched the area fruitlessly for signs of our foe, so I turned my attention to the survivors, calling in the ship's medical droids to provide aid. The news was not good. After freeing and inspecting the first group from the warehouse, the medics reported many hostages had become severely ill from their gangrenous wounds and would not survive. Worse, many of the adults exhibited insanity, likely due to their deplorable conditions and had to be...institutionalized. It seemed nothing had escaped the Cult's malevolent influence. But just when I began to despair, Kynes informed me she found the true heroine of the day."

"Thalia?"

"Just so. Our sniper found her barricaded in the first warehouse we searched. Somehow she had managed to break open the lock to her cage and sneak herself and a pair of children away into a storage room."

Lucidae enthroned himself in the metal chair again beneath the huge monitor, eyes hooded as he recalled his experience.

"Thalia was fearful of us first, believing us to be one of their tormentors, but I managed to convince her of my identity so she let us in. Most of her words came out nonsensically but when I told her we followed the distress beacon to this location, she became more coherent. I eventually learned she had risked moving herself and the children to avoid the fate of other hostages."

Revan figured out where this was going. "Let me guess, the children she rescued were Mysteel and T'shere,"

"Very perceptive." said Lucidae, favouring Revan with a nod.

"After learning about the children, I searched Thalia's room and found T'shere shivering under a broken table. I immediately felt sympathy for the poor thing. A gifted child I sensed, but so utterly...damaged. My attempts to coax her out of hiding were rebuffed."

Lucidae gave a faint frown at the memory.

"When I reached in, she shrieked and tried to bite my hand. It wasn't until Kynes appeared that we were finally finally able to drag her out of that death pit, albeit kicking and screaming."

_Looks like very little has changed, _thought Revan, before he noticed a genuine smile creeping on the Master's lips.

"Luckily, my encounter with Mysteel was more successful. When I first saw her peeking from under a blanket, I was amazed by her remarkable blue eyes. They had an intelligence and inner strength that I had rarely seen. And my weary heart warmed when her face brightened into a smile at my approach instead of cringing. When I reached down to pick her up, she giggled and tried to slap me playfully with her tentacles."

He gave a soft laugh.

"Like T'shere, I immediately knew she was gifted. And I remember thinking it incredibly rare to find two potentials in one day."

Revan nodded. Potentials was a term coined by the Masters for children who could be considered for induction into the Order. To find a potential was a rare and joyous occasion. Every living creature was binder together by the Force but it was said only one in ten thousand showed any significant connection. And even with bloodlines, it varied immensely.

"One would think that is a good omen. The Jedi are always looking for recruits, moreso since the last war."

He recalled then that Mysteel said that she had never been to the Order.

"But from what I've gathered, you only took T'shere back to the Order and not Mysteel. Why?"

"I did not feel it appropriate to take this tragedy as an excuse to find new initiates." Said Lucidae softly.

"And Thalia had grown attached to the two children during their confinement. Both T'shere and Mysteel were refugees, having lost their parents from the Mandalorian raid. Thalia knew that unless someone claimed them for their own, the army would be put into orphanages and neglected. She asked me to leave them with her. Eventually I consented to let her keep Mysteel for the time being. But T'shere…I could tell she wouldn't be able to acclimate back into society without help. I decided to bring her back to Coruscant to see what could be done."

Revan nodded. It seemed then, that the story wasn't all wretchedly despairing.

"At least some good came from this excursion. What of the other hostages?"

The other man shook his head sadly.

"We did what we could for them. Transported them back to our ships and kept them under surveillance onboard our medicae facilities. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that the majority of them would never recover…in body or in mind."

Lucidae glanced back to the data pad the droid had given him earlier.

"Thalia was made of stronger stuff though. Like everyone else, she was malnourished and dehydrated, but also the only adult who emerged sound of mind. I took special interest in her wellbeing as a result, since she was the only reliable witness to the events that transpired."

He stopped talking suddenly. Revan noticed he was distracted by the contents of the datapad he acquired earlier, fully focused on reading the contents. Eventually he said.

"Hmmm, interesting. It appears that the weapon you acquired is not organic in nature. Preliminary scans show that this substance is in fact composed of trillions of nano-machines, each smaller than a human cell."

Revan raised on eyebrow. A synthetic virus was incredibly advanced and illegal technology, even for the black market.

"How would a Hutt acquire something like that? "

Lucidae shook his head. "It is one of many questions…but the important one is why Malleus is interested in it."

"Isn't it obvious? Its destructive capability could reduce the Republic's planets to ashes and waste."

Lucidae nodded. "Perhaps…but I do not believe it is reason Malleus wants to acquire it. I have a feeling that this nano-technology is something much greater than a biohazard."

"What makes you say that?"

Lucidae shrugged.

"I have my suspicions." Was all the former Master was willing to reveal. Revan was not appeased but decided to pursue it later. The other man abruptly changed the subject.

"But back to the matter at hand. After a few days of rest the medical droids said Thalia was fit enough for questioning. Kynes and I asked her to describe the events that unfolded. Understandably, her recount was muddled and it took us a while to piece together what happened. But once we did, the facts we learned about their incarceration were…disturbing."

"In what way?" asked Revan curiously.

"Well there was the torture. Thalia thought these practices were simply for their captor's perverse pleasure, but eventually she noticed two people were always present during these 'sessions'. One, she recognized as Malleus and the other we eventually discovered was Victus. They never partook in the torture, but always watched. One time Thalia swore she noticed some sort of device in Victus' hand. He was analyzing something while the 'procedures' happened but she couldn't tell us what."

"And what exactly did these procedures involve?" Revan was curious in spite of himself.

"You don't want to know,"

Revan was getting weary with the other man's secretiveness. He let his dark eyes bore into the other man, a stare that had left many haunted with unpleasant images.

"Tell me. If I am to help your group, I need to know what Malleus is capable of,"

Lucidae's expression grew dark, seeming conflicted as to whether he should divulge the details.

"I once promised Thalia I wouldn't reveal what transpired in those slaughterhouses, but…"

He gave Revan a measuring look. "You have been around T'shere for a while now. I assume you think she is arrogant, brash...not to mention slightly unhinged?"

"You would assume correctly."

Lucidae nodded, as if he didn't expect anything else.

"Well there is a good reason for that." The Master leaned forward on his chair then, almost in conspiracy.

"I will tell you then, of the events Thalia and her children endured if only so you will think better of my wayward pupil,"

Taking the Jedi's silence as agreement, Lucidae continued.

"Thalia didn't know how long they were imprisoned, but every day, groups of people were dragged from the cages and ravaged before the rest. The monsters we call Abominations would literally skin them alive, then systematically dismember them like meat. Many hostages watched their own kin die screaming while their tormentors carved them inside out."

"I knew Victus was a sick bastard" growled Revan trying to keep his voice level. "But to make the hostages watch…" He trailed off, not wanting to think what possible reason the Cult could have for these sins.

"That's not all," said Lucidae darkly. "Thalia also told us they had gone for days without food and were starving. Many begged for something, anything to sate their hunger but their pleas initially fell on deaf ears. That's when some started eating their own fingers just to stay alive. Then one day, their captors brought them food, some sort of meat. The prisoners were too relieved to question their good fortune and started eating."

The Master started rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Thalia was suspicious though, not trusting this sudden change of goodwill. When she picked at her food, she noticed a bit of fabric stuck in them. Thalia told me it was part of the Army uniform."

Revan had a sick feeling in his gut as understanding dawned upon him.

"The Cult made the prisoners..._eat_ _each other_?_"_

Lucidae stayed silent but his gaze was all the confirmation he needed. Revan felt like he was going to hurl.

"When Thalia understood, she kicked the meat away before her children could touch it and screamed at the others to stop. When the other hostages found out what they were doing, many went insane and took their own lives rather than live with the knowledge of their sins. Others…other didn't care. As a result, the children were forced to bear witness as many adults devolved into ravenous cannibals,"

Revan was fully disgusted now. The story was so horrible, he figured it had to be true.

"Stop," he said with leaden finality. "You were right. I didn't need to know this."

Lucidae nodded grimly.

"I won't burden you anymore with the other particulars then. But suffice to say what Thalia and the children saw…it left a scar on their psyche. Mysteel was still young enough so that she could block out the images. But T'shere...she never got past the trauma of what she saw and has born a heavy burden since that day."

Lucidae gave a sad sigh.

"That was one of the main reasons I decided to take T'shere as my student, I had hoped my guidance could mend her wounds. But her behavior has always been erratic, especially during her training. The damage to her mind caused unprovoked rages and it was one of these rages that caused her...expulsion."

The Jedi said nothing for a long moment, but he did feel slightly less antagonistic to the Arkanian. If what Lucidae said was true, T'shere's anger and instability had been the result of a very traumatic event. He could sympathize with someone with mental issues.

"Everything you've told me is sad and horrifying," said Revan eventually. "But it still does not explain why you left the Order. Or why you do what you do,"

"Actually, it does." Said Lucidae. "As I said, the mission lifted the veil from my eyes. For you see, I found a great wealth of forbidden knowledge within the Cult's stronghold in the form of data pads, transmission logs, ancient computers. But among the many the many useful artifacts recovered was an item of particular note. A holocron,"

"A holocron?" echoed Revan. Holocrons were an ancient and rare technology devices used for recordings, sometimes by a Jedi or more likely Sith. They were more akin to holy artifacts than machinery, Only the most sensitive information was stored on these items.

"Yes, and what I learned from that device would forever change how I viewed the Jedi Order and their purpose. On that day, I learned their greatest, darkest secret."

Revan felt the hairs on his skin rise.

"What did the relic tell you? What could it possibly say which would make you turn your back from the Republic?"

"It told me," said Lucidae slowly "the origins of his Cult. It told me how the Sith of the present age truly came to be."

* * *

The passage was small, wide enough to fit one person abreast, but Matarl had to hunch almost horizontally so the cement didn't scrap his head. As plans went, this was definitely not one of his finest.

Earlier, he had not found anything resembling a vault on the schematics he pilfered, but Matarl did notice that the floor plan was incomplete. According to the information, the third station bunker level had only been partially constructed. Matarl had never descended to that level himself so he couldn't say what lay beyond, but Malleus seemed confident that it was their destination.

The Sith Lord surmised that if someone was going to store something valuable, it would be there, in the deepest, most guarded section of their sanctum. Matarl hadn't been convinced, but like most of his former employers, the Sith Lord cared little about what he thought.

"Destiny awaits," said Malleus simply, as if it should explain everything.

"We go,"

Matarl hesitated. He had wanted more time to scout around and get a feel for the security risks, to find the best point of attack. But Malleus' seemed intent to hammer his way straight into the heart of the enemy without any intelligence gathering whatsoever. Like a blunt instrument, these Sith tackled their obstacles head on.

_This is suicide..._

Malleus approach seemed to have little chance of success. Inwardly Matarl cursed. To be so close to his goal only to have it ripped away by the bloodlust of his allies...

Still, Matarl knew better than to voice his protest out loud. Doing so would probably result in his skin adorning the someone's wall by the next moon...

Resigned, the Rutian entered the ventilation room with the Cult and approached one of the service ducts labeled _A-28. _He turned to Malleus and said. "This shaft leads to part of _Haven's_ air filtration network. We can use it to get close to the basement level. It's pretty cramped so we'll have to kneel to move through it,"

The Sith Lord had laughed at Matarl's proposal.

"We do not kneel, not anymore"

Before Matarl could ask what he meant, one of Malleus' subordinates stalked up next to him, fists raised. Matarl flinched, but the monster was not aiming for him. Instead the fiend lash out against the wall, tearing away huge chunks of brickwork and cement with one savage strike. When the rubble had settled, it revealed the cramped but hallow passage that surrounded the ventilation. Suddenly, crawling on all fours seemed like a stupid idea.

_Larger than the ducts at least..._

Malleus turned his head to Matarl then and gave him an unpleasant smile.

"After you,"

With no other recourse, the Rutian stepped into the alcove, followed by Malleus and all of his slaves. That had been about fifteen minutes ago.

Now Matarl found himself in the unenviable position of leading his untrustworthy allies through a derelict and cramped maze. The passages were roughly hewn, barely spacious enough to accommodate the pipes, let alone him. The Rutian had to make periodic stops when the shaft tunnels snaked into different intersections, consulting his map to make sure they took the path that went down. The passages were pitch black and if it wasn't for the dull red glow from his wrist tool, Matarl would have no idea where he was going.

The Sith seemed unconcerned with the lack of light. They stalked the cramped passage soundlessly and with the surety of natural born hunters. So quiet were they that from time to time, Matarl could hear the faint dripping of water overhead.

Just as the the Twi'lek was beginning to get used to walking in the lightless passage, the group turned to a dead end. The vents continued through a gap in the wall, but effectively they had nowhere to go. The Rutian frowned at the obstacle and consulted his map.

"We're at the lowest level, and this is as far down as the floor plan shows," he said eventually, showing his wrist mounted map to the Malleus.

"If there is a vault, it will be around this area. Possibly deeper, but we will need to break through this wall and search."

"Then we break through," said Malleus. Despite the danger of angering the Sith Lord, Matarl shook his head.

"I think that's a bad idea," Matarl said carefully, the strongest resistance he had offered since their arrival.

"Why?" asked Malleus with deceptive calmness.

"This wall connects to one of the station's primary chambers," Matarl explained carefully "and if I know the security protocols here...which I do, every room will have a counter measure. If we breach, we'll be swarmed within nanoseconds by guards, traps and Force knows what else."

He thought his tone of voice would carry the point across, yet Malleus didn't seemed to be concerned.

"That is why I brought distractions." said the Sith Lord reaching out.

Matarl's flinched instinctively, thinking Malleus meant to use him as fodder. But the Sith Lord merely gestured at his wrist.

"You're map," commanded Malleus.

Confused, Matarl hesitantly unlatched his digital tool and gave it to the Sith Lord. Malleus handed it to one of his subordinates and said something in their bastard tongue. One of the feral creatures snarled something as he took the proffered item. Then as one, the rest of the horde turned on their heels and proceeded to scuttle back the way they came.

While Matarl couldn't understand their language, he understood what had just transpired. They were using his map to backtrack to various junctures surrounding the station. Presumably once they were in place, they would break through the walls and attack in unison, causing as much havoc as possible while the Matarl and Malleus pursued their real goal.

The Rutian was impressed. While he thought the Sith were nothing more than savages, they were apparently cunning (and suicidal) enough to use feint tactics.

_Maybe they aren't so mindless after all._

Malleus for his part seemed content to wait for his minions to perform their duties, so Matarl decided to do his. From his pouch he took out some C4, plastique and a rigging device. The Rutian felt around the wall, trying to pinpoint the weakest point of integrity. As far as he could tell, the wall was solid for at least a few inches, but nothing a few placed demolitions couldn't get through.

As he applied the plastique onto the wall, the Twi'lek was surprised to realize this was his first relative period of inactivity he had in days. He should have been relieved, yet the silence and stillness was almost unbearable to him now. Matarl wanted action, movement. But most importantly he wanted revenge, to feel the blood drain from his victim's lips while he sucked on the marrow of her...

_What?_

Matarl shook his head brusquely, disturbed that such thoughts would enter his mind. It was that shock that forced him to consider just how far he had changed since his first encounter with the Sith.

_If someone told me I would be working with these cannibals a few days ago, I would have laughed._

Something had changed. Matarl didn't know when it started happening but he knew Malleus was the reason for it. The Cult was exerting some kind of influence over him, and it was becoming more predominant with each passing day, in the way he appeared...how he acted.

Worried by the thought, Matarl stole a furtive glance at his ally while he worked. He was struck by how perfectly terrifying a specimen this Sith was. Malleus resembled a legend of old, personifying what many civilizations called a Reaper, or a harbinger of death. His gaunt and rotting frame accentuated this image and did nothing to dissuade the Twi'lek's basic fears about consorting with him.

And despite Malleus' assurances that he would get his revenge, Matarl was still uneasy. Malleus had done nothing to rouse suspicion, but the Twi'lek was under no illusion that the Sith Lord was doing all this out of the kindess of his heart. What was Malleus' end game in all this? What did he gain in helping Matarl to achieve his revenge? Malleus apparently possessed the ability to peer into the murky future, a rare quality among their kind apparently. But if the Sith Lord was omniscient, why did he need Matarl?

He recalled that Victus said Lucidae had taken something from them that cause great distress. And ostensibly they wanted it back. So apparently, Matarl provided the best means for them to retrieve it. But once they did, what was to stop Malleus from reneging their deal and breaking his birdlike neck? The Sith Lord plainly had no regard for life. He wasn't even against sacrificing his own followers.

Malleus seemed to sense his internal turmoil, because he turned back to face him with his sightless gaze.

"Still, you doubt my cause?" Asked Malleus, growling every syllable like a predator on the verge of a kill. Matarl cringed, thinking his anger was about to boil over, but surprisingly Malleus smiled.

"Be at ease. I have seen the ground run red with the blood of your enemies. Their screams are intertwined with anguish, denial and hate. And yes, their deaths are assured. _Her_ death is assured,"

Matarl shuffled uncomfortably at the scrutiny and particular choice of words. He continued rigging the walls with explosives in order to avoid conversation, but eventually curiosity took over.

"Look…not that I'm complaining," The Twi'lek said eventually as he set up the leads into the clay like substance. "but you still haven't told me why you're really here."

Mustering his courage, Matarl added.

"What are looking for?"

The Sith Lord just stared at him. Matarl sighed, wondering why he even bothered. But then Malleus spoke, his voice only slightly above a whisper.

"Do you know who Ajunta Pall is?"

Matarl was momentarily caught off guard before looking thoughtful.

"I've heard of him..."

The Twi'lek thought back to his time within the group. He had heard Lucidae mention the name several times in with conversations with his students.

"He was some sort of Sith Lord wasn't he?"

Malleus gave a grating chuckle that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"A common misconception, but no. He was not Sith. However, he did use them to complete his grand vision."

"Vision?" echoed Matarl. Malleus nodded.

"Ajunta Pall was a visionary, a man whose ultimate goal was to bring the Jedi to their evolutionary apex. For you see, having experimented at great length in improving life forms, this man gained knowledge of the Force unrivalled by any Master or scientist. And with that knowledge he planned to remould the Jedi into perfect warriors, unsullied by fear or self doubt."

"Really...," said Matarl doubtfully. The Rutian never paid much attention to history but Malleus' claims seemed outrageous at best. "Did he succeed?"

Malleus smiled as if the answer was self evident.

"Yes. Many of Ajunta Pall's followers shared his vision of the Jedi transcendent. Together they began to mould the first living organisms into their image of the perfect being."

Matarl noticed Malleus claws slashed the air as he spoke, like he was flaying something that only he could see.

"But there were those in the Order that were jealous of his knowledge. Self serving despots in the Council that wanted those secrets for themselves. Inevitably, this jealousy blew into full blown war. The conflict was long but it was clear Ajunta Pall was gaining the the upper hand. However, this...distraction was costing him precious resources he could ill afford to lose. So rather than continue to spar with the ignorant, Ajunta Pall willingly left the Republic's domain. To pursue his noble goal without the meddling hands of the Council."

The Sith Lord became silent for a moment. Matarl noticed Malleus' milky eyes take on an even more distant quality, like he was reliving a particular memory. Eventually he spoke again.

"For a while, he searched for a suitable environment to carry his great works. He came across many wonders, but none that gave him...inspiration. Yet the Force was with Ajunta Pall because shortly after his self imposed exile, he came upon the world of Korriban."

Matarl felt is skin tingle. Even to a layman like him, Korriban that inspired dread and awe. It was known to Lucidae as the red planet, the bane of the Jedi. Once, that world had been a mighty symbol, the bastion of the Sith. Now, it was little more than a major tomb, a planet filled with secrets and spirits. Matarl stared at Malleus curiously, wondering what relationship this Ajunta Pall had with such an infamous place.

"So...you're saying Ajunta Pall found the homeworld of the Sith?"

"Precisely. Ajunta Pall descended upon the world and found a great gift. A race with unique genetic templates, unsullied by external influences, _pure_. Unlike any other alien race, their genome had retained universal affinity with the Force. Ajunta Pall knew that this discovery was a sign. He took the best specimens and harvested their raw genetic material. And with that material, he gene forged his followers into the perfect specimen. Pure manifestations of the Force, undying and perfect. The first Reborn were created."

Matarl's narrowed at the words as understanding dawned on the term.

"Reborn..." echoed Matarl. "but that means..."

His expression changed from curiosity to surprise as he stared at the man before him, the man Victus had venerated as his god. Malleus_, _Lord and Master of the Cult of the Reborn.

"Are you saying...but that would make you..."

_Is Malleus millennium old?_

As Matarl continued his slack jawed stare, Malleus simply smiled and showed him his blood stained fangs.

"I am the _Renatus_ Matarl. Ajunta Pall's will made manifest. I am his coiled fist, his right hand of justice. The saviour from ignorance and blight. I am the end."

Matarl's eyes widened as awe overtook his senses. To be standing with someone who had walked the blighted sands of Korriban, who had breathed the same air with one of the most notorious Jedi in history. Matarl didn't know if he was blessed, cursed to or both.

"Renatus. I- I don't know what to say..."

Without conscious thought, Matarl dipped to one knee. Malleus wasn't just Sith. He was something so much greater. A former Jedi that had transcended death itself to become the living avatar of the Force. _Reborn._

The Twi'lek suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to grovel at Malleus' feet, to pay some sign of fealty to this mighty being. He crawled forward and kissed the hem of the Sith Lord's robes as it brushed his face.

"Rise." said Malleus quietly, bringing Matarl back to his feet. The Reborn gave Matarl a piecing stare. "Today, you and I are equals. United in a common goal. To take back what is ours."

Matarl managed to give a barely perceptible nod, his face still frozen in awe at the revelation.

"And what my Lord...if I may ask...what is it that you hope to take back?"

The sinister smile returned to Malleus' lips.

"Ajunta Pall's greatest legacy."


	25. Chapter 25 Hostile Takeover

_Lucidae…you took from me that which I cherished most._

_Now, I will do the same to you._

_-Malleus_

* * *

"No..." said Revan slowly. "I don't believe you."

The Jedi stared at the former Master who sat impassively as he revealed the stunning news. Malleus and Victus…to think that there were still traitors that existed in the Hundred Years Darkness. It was unthinkable.

"I didn't believe it either at first," replied Lucidae quietly. "But reality cares little for what you and I believe I'm afraid."

He turned on his mighty dais towards his computer and pressed a few keys. The monitor changed views to show an image of a decrepit looking humanoid, leering down on them.

"This is a Malleus," said Lucidae "By all accounts, one of Ajunta Pall's closest consorts during the great schism."

The Jedi stared at the image with fascination. The thing Lucidae called Malleus was completely bald, with patches of skin and flesh rotting away to show the pale glistening tendons underneath. Malleus' grin was permanently stitched onto his face, promising torments untold.

"How?" said Revan eventually. "How is it possible that a warrior from three thousand years past could still be among the living?"

"Because he was one of Ajunta Pall's creations."

"Creations?"

"Yes." Said Lucidae matter-of-factly. "One of his greatest achievements apparently. I am almost tempted to believe the Force refuses to take him and his kind back, so unnatural they've become."

The former Master turned his attention back to the Jedi who continued to stare at the screen.

"As you know, the Jedi had once been a unified, cohesive brotherhood, dedicated to protecting the galaxy. Some would say a shining example to the rest of the Republic. But that unity showed weaknesses three millennia ago. Back then, the Jedi had gradually been divided along loyalties and philosophies. Some Jedi like Ajunta Pall felt that the Order was being held back by dogma and frivolous ritual. They wanted to further their knowledge of the Force, not simply regurgitate what was already known. Ajunta Pall himself was fascinated with the concept of evolution and immortality. He thought the Force was a tool that could push the boundaries of the living genome, to 'improve' the Jedi beyond its current capabilities. Needless to say, such ideas were frowned upon by traditionalists. But such was his charisma that he persuaded elements of the Council of to lend 'volunteers' for his studies."

Lucidae's face darkened.

"Unfortunately these desires took a darker turn within the first few trials. Ajunta Pall ostensibly wanted to help his volunteers increase their sensitivity to the Force through neural reconfiguration. Yet somehow, those he experimented on became obsessed with self flagellation and hedonistic acts. They reveled in violence, the stimuli triggering extremely pleasurable emotions within their psyche. What was at first sanctioned testing soon devolved into pleasure cults dedicated to pain, torture and much worse. I discovered that shortly after their inception, Ajunta Pall's Cults partook in acts of excesses that would make a Twi'lek blush in shame."

"How do you know all this?" asked Revan unable to tear himself away from the horrid figure in the screen. To look upon Malleus was to know the deepest depths of darkness and depravity a Jedi could possibly fall into. There had been many traitors to the Jedi throughout the millennia but Malleus deserved special recognition for being one of the first.

"From the holocron. It was Ajunta Pall's log of sorts. A personal history that catalogued his experimental procedures, but also his desires and goals. He discussed at length about his discoveries on the blighted world of Korriban and the experiments he conducted upon the dominant population."

"You mean the Sith." said Revan flatly. "The real Sith that the traitors of the current age take their namesake from,"

"Precisely. The Sith were a blessed species, or so Ajunta Pall would have us believe because they retained universal affinity with the Force. That is something unheard of in any race during the present age. Yet for all their genetic greatness, they were a relatively primitive civilization when the traitor discovered them. Prone to superstitious rituals and worship of pagan deities,"

"It doesn't sound like they would be fond of outsiders then," Revan remarked as he finally gave his full attention back to the other man.

"On the contrary, their tribal and ritualistic ways was exactly what Ajunta Pall used to help him gain control of the local populace. When he and his cohorts descended from the skies onto Korriban, the Sith thought they were 'Sky Gods', riding down on their metal chariots. Then as the exiled Jedi emerged from their black ships, the Sith abased themselves in front of the traitors and welcomed them as living avatars for their worship."

"The Sith venerated the traitors as gods?" echoed Revan in disbelief. To be punished with Exile only to be worshipped in return…

"Truly there was no justice in this galaxy."

Lucidae gave a humorless laugh. "Truly. Never let it be said that the Force doesn't have a sense of humor. I have little doubt that if the Sith were a little more knowledgeable about the outside galaxy, Ajunta Pall's legacy would never have come to fruition."

Revan made a disgusted noise. "The more I hear about Korriban's history, the more I wish that blighted planet never existed."

"Very true." Agreed Lucidae as he leaned back on his chair. "But their arrival was only the tip of the iceberg for the Jedi's wayward children . In his logs, Ajunta Pall spoke at length about his observations after first contact. It appeared the native Sith were structured into a caste system. While each Sith has the same genetic baseline, Ajunta Pall discovered that members of each caste differed in significant ways from members of the others."

"What kind of ways?"

In response, Lucidae pressed another sequence of buttons on his console. The image flickered from Malleus to groups of red hued humanoids with a forked mustaches. Revan noticed they only had three digits. Despite these obvious characteristics, the Jedi did see that each specimen varied greatly in appearance. Some wore robes of elaborate design, while others were in urchin rags. Others went bare chested to show the impressive girth of their chests, while others looked emancipated and frail.

"Here are the Sith of Korriban." Lucidae said quietly. He pointed at the frail looking specimens.

"At the very bottom of the Sith hierarchy were the slaves, little better than vermin in the eyes of the rest of the race. Slightly higher were the engineers who designed their structures."

He clicked another button and the image focused on one of the more august looking figures, dressed in long flowing robes.

"Then there were the Kissai, the priest caste. These were the most feverent of the Sith, who guided the spiritual wellbeing of their race. Ajunta Pall discovered they had the ability to exert a form of hypnotic control over their followers, that enabled them to rally the masses into a frenzy during their worships."

Revan's eyes narrowed when the image shifted to a burly looking Sith. This one was obviously a warrior, based on the savage ritual scars and muscled torso.

"And pre-eminent among all the Sith were the Missassi, the warrior nobility. They were the most warlike and bloodthirsty of their race, taking every opportunity to wage war on other tribes."

Lucidae swiveled back to look at the Jedi after his lecture, giving him a hard stare.

"Four castes. Four different genetic baselines that Ajunta Pall used for his own twisted designs. Desiring to unlock the secret to the Sith's universal Force affinity, he cultivated specimens from each caste and tampered extensively with their DNA. After years of arduous and unethical testing, he succeeded in creating something horrible. The first Reborn."

Before Revan could reply, the other man stretched out a hand to the endless rows of canisters that lined the side of the walls.

"What you see before you is the legacy Ajunta Pall left for his followers. The result of intensive genetic manipulation of the different castes. I myself have studied the results in great detail. They are truly a wonder of biological engineering...and a blight on reality."

Revan followed the other man's hand to the pulsating organs, each a black cancer that Lucidae said offended simply through its existence. As he looked on, the import of Lucidae's words struck him.

"Are you saying" he said slowly. "That these _things_…are derived from a genetic cocktail of the different Sith sub-species?"

"Precisely." Nodded Lucidae "Through gene splicing and accelerated mitosis, Ajunta Pall managed to engineer…enhancements to his subject's internal metabolism. These organs bestow upon the host various characteristics traceable to the caste's original genome."

Lucidae tapped a new series of keys and the image of one of the organs appeared. It was the eel like creature Revan had seen writhing in fluid cage earlier on.

"This is what Ajunta Pall called the Mallephagea, type A. It is an organ bioengineered from the slave caste. After analysis, I've discovered it is essentially a highly evolved parasite that gradually subverts the hosts' DNA after ingenstion."

"It changes the hosts DNA?" echoed Revan feeling suddenly uneasy. "How?"

"The most obvious characteristic is that it limits independent will," said Lucidae. "My hypothesis is that since it was cultivated from slave DNA, the parasite re-aligns their thought processes to become submissive to another. But the change does not end there. The parasite also enhances overall aggression and physical attributes, such as claws, teeth muscle mass…"

"Abominations," interrupted Revan suddenly as the link became clear. "are you saying this parasite creates Abominations?"

Lucidae nodded. "Very astute. This implant is indeed unique to the Abomination strain. Malleus uses them much like the Sith of ancient times did. As fodder and mindless workers. But unlike the slaves, Abominations are more than capable of ripping a Manadalorian to shreds in hand to hand combat,"

Revan didn't know what to say. Ajunta Pall must have had one sick mind to conjure up something like these monsters. Taking his silence for acceptance, Lucidae changed the image to an organ that looked like a squished kidney with tentacles leeching out from all sides. The thing was even more repulsive than the parasite if it was possible.

"The Mallepagea, Type B. Derived from the brain matter of the Engineer caste. They were the intellectuals of their race and the traitor sought to exploit their unique neural chemistry. Unfortunately, he suceeded."

The image magnified, showing the millions of ugly black pores and distended veins on the surface.

"In this case, Type B is attached to the brain stem to act as an external bioprocess or of sorts. According to the holocron, Ajunta Pall designed this to help filter information in the host's brain." The Master tapped his head.

"Imagine the amount of information you and I experience through a second then multiply it by a thousand. A warrior with this implant experiences everything with such intensity, he becomes addicted to the extremes. The brain signals are warped, changing pain stimuli to pleasure. As a side effect, it also gives quicker reaction time, making everything seem like it is coming at them in slow motion"

Revan nodded at this piece of news, thinking back to the fight with Victus. This organ was probably what allowed him to fight through his grievous wounds, also bequeathing him with such freakish speed. He was beginning to appreciate just how far removed Victus was from the rest of his race. The Jedi really didn't want to think what other…enhancements Ajunta Pall had made.

The image changed again to something that resembled a worm with a yawning mouth.

"Type C. This genetic material was extracted from the Kissai, the Sith's priest caste. The function of this organ is somewhat of a mystery to me still. But I know the Kissai were motivational speakers who were able to sway their followers into passionate worship. And as far as I can tell, this organ mimics the effect, helping the host exert some sort of control among others."

"I've seen this implant work," remarked Revan suddenly. "During the auction. I saw Victus trying some sort of trick to...overrule his underlings."

"Most likely it was with the use of this implant," agreed Lucidae. "What's remarkable about type C is that it allows the host to filter the thoughts and desires of it subjects, namely those that have the type A parasite implanted within them. Reborn like Victus and Malleus can literally syphon their thought process and control the Abominations like automatons, similar to how a computer would control a droid."

"All these…enhancements." Revan said softly, a note of wonder in his voice. "How did Ajunta Pall do all this..."

He trailed off before looking back at Lucidae.

"It doesn't end here does it? I'm assuming Ajunta Pall created something from every caste."

"You would assume correctly," said Lucidae, echoing Revan's previous words. He pressed another coded key to show a fourth image, this one resembling a beating heart.

"And finally we have Type D. This organ was derived from the Missassi and was the crowning achievement of all of Ajunta Pall's creations. Massassi are known for their adaptability. Specifically adaptability in combat situation and the traitor sought to exploit that. Type D is a hyperadapter of sorts, surgically connected to the gastro intestinal tract. When functional, it helps break down the enzymes and DNA structure of ingested genetic material. Through some incalculable process, it then subverts desirable genetic traits and merges them into the host's own."

Revan's eyes widened. "You're saying the host takes on the traits of their victims."

"Precisely. Physically advantageous traits such as infrared vision, fangs, or extended muscle mass can be absorbed through this process. Ajunta Pall claims theoretically, it is even possible for the Reborn to glean certain Force abilities from ingesting the genetic material of their victims."

The Jedi stared at the seemingly benign lump of flesh, finding it hard to believe that it functioned as such a technological marvel.

"Maybe that's why the Cult are cannibals. They literally become stronger with everyone they eat."

Lucidae nodded.

"That is partly true I suspect, but I believe they also derive a certain amount of pleasure from desecrating their victims."

There was a long silence as Revan struggled to absorb the legacy Ajunta Pall and his Jedi had left behind.

"I never knew…" the Jedi started before catching himself.

"Knew what?"

"…That Ajunta Pall had such vision. I thought he was merely a exiled Jedi, someone that flaunted the Jedi code for personal gain. Never for a moment did I think that he did so much more…"

"You sound like you admire him," said Lucidae. There was a hint of warning in his tone.

"No," said Revan firmly. "What Ajunta Pall did, what he created…it is all corrupt. A mockery of sentient life. I only lament that his vast intellect could not have been used for better things."

"Sometimes I wonder it too." Said Lucidae "But there is no point in thinking what could have been."

"How many of these...Reborn are there? Besides Malleus I mean,"

"Uncertain. Ajunta Pall never said how many of the traitors survived to become Reborn. Creating one is an extremely complicated and secret process. I doubt anybody in the present age knows how to duplicate the effect. The demise of Victus is a telling blow though. Each death diminishes the Cult that much more."

He shut off the images and looked at Revan appraisingly.

"I think we can agree though that Malleus is a blight on this very galaxy. Our need right now is to undo the damage this madman created. And it is not just Malleus' existence, but what he represents."

"Represents?"

"Yes," said Lucidae "Malleus is a traitor, but more than that, he _knows_ why the Jedi were sundered so many years ago. Historians believe it was only a civil war where ideologies clashed. But they do not know the full scope of the betrayal. If the Republic at large or even the Jedi today were to understand that the Order were complicit in creating such horrors like Malleus…"

Revan shook his head at the Master's implications.

"The Order may suffer more taint to its name but the Republic has a short memory. I doubt the Senate would dissolve them over something that happened thousands of years ago. They are above all, pragmatic."

"You do not see the big picture Revan," said Lucidae. "Unlike any other of the Jedi's enemies, Malleus is a threat from within. He is literally older and more experienced than all the Masters in the council combined. And after millennia of avoiding confrontation, this ancient enemy has chosen to strike at the Republic, when the Jedi are at their weakest. Simply revealing his existence would be a psychological blow that the Order could never recover from."

Revan's opened his mouth to argue the point but Lucidae held up a hand.

"It is no secret that the last uprising has lessened the Order greatly, and they are teetering on the brink of annihilation. The Cult has become emboldened by their recent losses. I have tracked their migration patterns, and I know for a fact that elements of the Reborn are gradually moving deeper into the core worlds."

Lucidae steepled his fingers

"I do not know what Malleus' endgame is. Perhaps he plans to eliminate the Order, or perhaps he wants to claim more territory. But I do know he plans to strike soon and that is something the Jedi cannot deal with right now. With Mandalorians, Sith and other enemies encroaching on Republic space, the Jedi will need every member they can spare for the coming trials, and not lose them fighting a madman. Which is why I have told you all this. I wish you to agree to help me freely in dismantling the Cult, without any burden to your conscience."

Lucidae looked at Revan expectantly, as if the Master was hoping he would simply agree. But Revan simply folded his arms and looked at him skeptically.

"You have a flair for the dramatic, Lucidae," he said evenly. "But you also have a way of avoiding topics that you do not want to discuss. What you have shown me is... insightful to say the least. But I find your motives less than altruistic since you haven't told me why you left the Order"

He pointed an accusing finger at the Master.

"Why would you choose to embark on this solo crusade without the help of your peers? Surely the council would mobilize all their resources to deal with Malleus if he is as grave a threat as you purport him to be. Did you even divulge what you told me to them?"

Lucidae suddenly looked conflicted as if he couldn't quite bring himself to say the truth. He seemed to shrink a little as he sighed, a lifetime of burden impressed on his chest. Eventually he said quietly.

"I...I can't tell you Revan. Not yet at least."

"Why?" the Jedi demanded.

"My relationship with the Order is...complicated. There are many things I have done for them which I am not proud of, but I always thought I did it for the right reasons...until recently"

Lucidae stood up then and looked at the Jedi, face to face.

"Without any obfuscation let me say here and now that I am not an enemy to the Order. I want them to survive. And that means they need all the help they can get. By killing Malleus, we cut off the head of the cancer before it can properly entrench itself within the body. Whatever he is doing, the Reborn must not succeed."

He held up out a hand.

"Are you with me?"

Revan stared at the hand for a long moment before reaching out and clasping it.

"I am with you,"

* * *

"There she is," said Mysteel cheerfully as she finally spotted their quarry. The Twi'lek had been dragging T'shere around the base for the better part of an hour so the Arkanian could apologize to her victims for her latest outburst. They eventually found their sister skipping down a long hallway with Arctet in tow, desperately calling for her to come back.

The child was laughing as she ran down the isle. But when the Twi'lek spotted T'shere, she squeaked and turned back the other way…only to be scooped up by the black haired youth. Arctet blew a sigh of relief until he saw the new arrivals.

"Why is she with you?" Inquired T'shere as they came face to face. The young man's face twitched, a common reaction when he was around the commander.

"Ah, I was doing inventory in the vault." Said Arctet nervously. "Thalia dropped by and said I looked like I needed a break...so she volunteered to finish it while I went to feed her daughter."

The girls chuckled. It was somewhat of a running gag among them to get Arctet to help take care of the youngest daughter since he did such an abysmal job of it. It was almost like a game for them. No matter how hard Arctet tried, the blue scamp always managed to elude him.

"Well, it looks like you're two for three on this mission." said Mysteel brightly. "You're improving!"

She then gave her buxom companion a meaningful look

"Now. Isn't there something you want to say to our little sister?"

T'shere nodded, suddenly nervous. Apologizing wasn't something that came naturally to her. Given a choice between this and cleaning duty, she would have chosen the latter almost every time. When she approached the child, the Twi'lek buried her head into Arctet's shoulder and gave a whine. T'shere took a deep breath, thinking how not to screw this up. Eventually she decided on the honest approach.

"I'm sorry I scared you little one," the Arkanian said softly.

"You know how I can get sometimes."

She stroked the top of the Rutian's forehead, eliciting a giggle.

"Forgive me?"

The Rutian peeked out from her hiding spot. She gave the Arkanian a mischievous grin and said.

"Only if you take me on your next mission,"

T'shere made a show of considering her offer. She glanced back at Mysteel with a smile and asked.

"Hmmm, I don't know. Tails what do you think?"

"Oh I think it's fine," replied the ever boisterous Twi'lek, playing along. She leaned in conspirationly with her other siblings and said.

"But you know the golden rule, don't you?"

The three sisters chuckled and said it at the same time.

"Don't. Tell. Mother!"

They laughed while Arctet shuffled his feet uncomfortably, not liking where this was heading. Whenever their sister got swept up in their operations, he always ended up being responsible for her. It has never gone well.

Mysteel caught his discomfort and giggled.

"Oh don't worry, we wont leave you holding the bag again."

She slapped him playfully on the rump, making him jump in surprise.

"Come on stud, let's go and see how long we can keep our little sister entertained without losing her,"

Without waiting for a response, she began skipping to the mess hall followed by T'shere. Arctet had no choice but to trudge along after them.

* * *

"It is time," said Malleus suddenly.

The Rutian saw that the Sith Lord had cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something only he could hear. Matarl couldn't see any communications device on him but didn't doubt Malleus had all sorts of ways to commune with his followers.

The former spy nodded and turned his attention to his trigger. The beauty of the thing was that it wasn't just a detonator but functioned as a multiple purpose remote control. Matarl had rigged the device to send a cascading signal along the security's network. Once he pressed the button the entire defence and communication's grid would come undone. And when that happened...

Smiling, Matarl lifted his tool and was just about to trigger the device when Malleus grabbed his hand in a frightening grip. The Reborn forced him to stare into his milky eyes.

"Remember. Follow the path, always the path. Never lose sight of me. Obey, and you will find your revenge."

"Y-yes my Lord." Stuttered Matarl.

"Proceed" said Malleus and he loosened his grip.

Exhaling his anticipation, Matarl punched the trigger. The first explosion echoed for hundreds of meters, blasting fistfuls of rocks out the wall like tiny meteors.

* * *

At the signal, several things happened at once.

Klaxons blared immediately on all levels of the station as the security sensors detected the disturbance.

The soldiers on guard were suddenly alert, speaking rapidly through their comms systems to assess the situation. Many were greeted with the sound of static, their secure channels clogged with interference or no longer functioning at all. Others noticed that despite the alarms, none of the self defense systems had come online. The turrets and shield walls remained inactive.

One soldier had barely registered this worrying fact when the wall behind him came apart with concussive force, spraying a viscera of concrete and knocking everyone within two meters off their feet. Dazed, the first victim struggled to get back on his feet when he noticed somebody standing in front of his line of sight. A leering face dotted with black pits of death looked down on him, claws slashing the air in anticipation.

"Abdomen-mmmmaAaarrrh!"

His shouts of warning were replaced with a hideous scream as the monster descended upon him and shredded his face into ribbons with steel hard talons.

* * *

"What the hell?" snarled T'shere

One moment the four had been bantering, then the next thing they knew the corridors had become crimson, warning sirens blaring from all directions. Every living soul within Aethon Cell knew what that meant.

They were under attack. Without a single warning, an enemy had managed to encroach on their territory and breach the Army grade security network. The notion was so ludicrously absurd, T'shere would have laughed if she wasn't so pissed.

She and Mysteel had instinctively drawn their lightsabers, golden blades flashing in the sudden darkness. Arctet pressed himself against the wall, clutching the younger child to his chest. Both of them had looked decidedly worried.

"This isn't a drill is it?" he asked nervously.

T'shere shook her head grimly. Seeing no immediate threat, the commander gave Mysteel a look.

"Find out what's going on,"

Mysteel nodded and connected to the general channel. She listened for a few seconds before looking up worried.

"This...this isn't good. Comm's messed up. But far as I can tell, every level of the subway system had been breached. The defence turrets aren't working and worst of all, the intruders are identified as..."

She trailed off as the color drained from her face.

"As-?" echoed the Arkanian impatiently.

"…Abominations,"

"Abominations? Are you sure?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth when the ceiling exploded. Arctet shouted in alarm and scattered as a trio of hulking, figures dropped on top of their position.

T'shere managed to leap out of the way before a set of scything claws slashed down at where her head had just been. Mysteel was caught off guard the most, one brute landing directly on top of her, eliciting a curse and yelp at the same time.

T'shere saw her sister go down just as flashing red arc came screaming at the side of her head. She whipped her lightsaber up instinctively, deflecting the first second and third strike with her lightsaber. Then the Arkanian's hands moved in a blur, frantically keeping pace with the storm of slashes raining down upon her. The attacks were so fast, she couldn't see anything of her assailants beyond a red and black haze.

Growling, T'shere executed a 360 degree sweep with her two handed weapon, forcing her attackers to leap back. Having brought a split second's respite she put distance from them as well. Steadying her breath, she looked up. Her opponent was an Aspirant, his fleshless face locked into a sickening leer. Snapping at his knees was one of his bastard kin, an Abomination. T'shere and the Apsirant's eyes met for a brief second. The fiend blew her a mocking kiss.

Snarling at the insult, T'shere twirled her weapon in the air and charged.

* * *

This Abomination was definitely no ordinary specimen. It dwarfed the Twi'lek by a good two feet, four hundred pounds of malice bundled into its muscled frame. The hideous head had a cyclops eye that burned with hate. As Mysteel recoiled in disgust, the monster brought its huge snapping maw down, eager to snap the smaller female's head off with its drill like teeth.

For the next few seconds, Mysteel thrashed her head from side to side desperately, miraculously staving off dismemberment. During her struggle, she had managed to extricate her left hand from beneath the monster's grip and tried to push the vile face away. She couldn't risk going for her lightsaber which had clattered a few meters away, for even a split second of inattention would leave her a head and two tentacles shorter.

Despite Mysteel's slippery tactics, Malleus' slave was gradually getting the advantage. With dreadful certainty, its ugly forest of teeth inched closer to her face, acidic drool leaving scorch marks on her clear golden skin. Mysteel gasped in frustration. She knew that unless something happened immediately, she was going to meet a horrible demise in the monster's gullet.

Her desperation gave way to a split second's inspiration.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she used an ability none of her race had mastered yet. Her tentacles leaped up and jabbed the thing's eyes sharply with their tips.

The monster roared in pain, bringing both of its massive hands to cover the bleeding slits. Mysteel managed to slither a few feet out, just enough to get a foot under her. As she rose, she stiffened her left hand, letting the sharp stiletto blade hiss to life from under her gauntlet. Then quick as a cat, Mysteel plunged the nasty weapon into the side of the monster's skull.

The monster shrieked as its brain was punctured, not once but several times in rapid succession. By the fifth stab, it was probably already dead but Mysteel's revulsion demanded excessive force. She finished her onslaught with a brutal swing that slid through the monster's throat. A fountain of tar spurted from the gaping wound before cauterizing and her opponent collapsed onto its back, a fresh corpse.

A liberal amount ichorous substance had drenched the Twi'lek from head to toe. Shivering in disgust, Mysteel staggered away to retrieve her weapon.

* * *

T'shere's battle was an endless ballet of strikes, parries and dodges. The Arkanian was in another disadvantageous situation, fighting in a narrow corridor with two opponents. While she could deflect the attacks well enough, she had no space to maneuver herself for an attack.

The Arkanian was getting frustrated with the impasse when she heard a piercing scream. Glancing across her enemy's shoulder, she saw Mysteel goring her opponent with swift savage strikes and grinned. The odds had just turned in their favor.

Seeing the sudden change of fortunes, the Aspirant growled a command at his remaining asset.

In response, the Abomination lunged towards the Arkanian in a bullrush, intent on bringing her down with its superior size. T'shere sidestepped the clumsy attack, the raking talons whistling harmlessly by her face. With a snarl, she pivoted on her backfoot and lunged out with a murderous thrust at the Abomination. The Arkanian scored a savage hit on the shoulder, tearing through cloth, flesh and sinew.

The monster ignored the savage strike with the typical disregard of its kind to pain. It swung around sharply and lunged back at the Arkanian. T'shere hesitated for a nanosecond too long and was punished for her indecision when the monster clamped onto her body and bit deep into her neck with bloody fangs.

T'shere screamed in agony and rage.

"Arrgggh! Filthy bastard!"

She tried to shake free but the Abomination clung on with the tenacity of a parasite. It brought its weight to bear, forcing the Arkanian onto the floor with a splintering crack and her lightsaber deactivated. The attack was debilitating. T'shere felt her strength being sapped through her neck as the Abomination sucked her lifeforce away with disgusting slurps. Waves of nausea engulfed her, the sheer revulsion of the abuse bringing bile into the back of her throat.

As her struggles diminished and the Abomination tightened its deadly embrace, blackness started to creep into her peripheral vision. T'shere's breath was reduced to wheezing gasps and she was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. Soon, she was going to pass out from blood loss, brought down by a monster in a dark hallway with no one witness her death or to hear her dying screams. She was going to die alone like she has always been…

Her eyes snapped open at the thought.

_No! I won't die alone like this. I won't!_

The primal fear in her psyche gave renewed strength to her limbs. Fighting through the pain, T'shere managed to fumble claw her weapon back into her grip and position it against the fiend's chest. Then with a surge of adrenaline, she ignited the weapon.

A yellow fountain of light blossomed out from under the monster's back, ripping out the thing's spinal chord. The Abomination didn't even manage to scream. It just spasmed uncontrollably before collapsing into a ruined heap beneath the Arkanian's feet. T'shere rose unsteadily against the wall, breathing a sigh of relief and pain.

As she looked up, she saw that Mysteel was crossing blades with the remaining Aspirant. Despite their dire predicament, the Arkanian took a moment to admire the fight. Mysteel's style of fighting was something best described as swashbuckling, relying on free form and instinct more than any style of swordplay. She dipped and weaved around the Aspirant's strikes like a fish, always darting out of her opponent's reach. In one exchange, Mysteel's swung out at the Aspirant's face with her left fist. Her opponent didn't flinch, thinking a punch from the lithe female would be pathetically ineffectual. But with the customary sneakiness bred into her training, Mysteel ignited her hidden stiletto blade just as her fist connected, a thin spark of energy punching into one of the Aspirant's eyes. Her opponent staggered back in surprise, partially blinded.

Taking advantage of his wound, Mysteel pressed her opponent relentlessly. The two blades kissed in a staccato of endless rhythm, a pattern of thrusts, strikes and parries too fast for the normal eye to see. The Aspirant defended as best as he could but Mysteel was the faster. She swung her lightsaber with surgical precision, the blade lashing out in violent arcs at every part of her enemy's body. Her lethally quick strikes were rewarded with several glancing hits, each bringing grunts of pain and frustration from her beleaguered opponent. Sensing his imminent defeat, the Aspirant dove into a suicide charge, hoping to bring his opponent down with him.

The Arkanian blew a silent whistle as the Aspirant lunged forward only for Mysteel to somersault over him with a front flip. She even managed to land a solid kick with a free boot as she sailed over the rampaging form. The Aspirant stumbled from the stunning blow, floundering like a drunkard...and straight onto the Arkanian's waiting lightsaber. As the Aspirant impaled himself on the glowing blade, T'shere twisted the hilt up so she could stare at the wretched creature,

"Send Victus my regards,"

The monster had a moment to look indignant before the light died from his eyes and he grew still.

With a growl of disgust, T'shere shoved the fresh corpse onto the ground.

Mysteel jogged forward with a worried look at her face, obviously concerned with the profuse bleeding for T'shere's neck. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was coated with the insides of her first victim.

"Are you-?"

"Better than them," replied T'shere curtly, waiving her sibling away as she took stock of the situation. It was worse than she thought. Abominations...which meant that the Cult had found them. Which meant they were in for a shit storm. T'shere didn't know how this catastrophe managed to happen but she was certain that Revan was somehow responsible for it.

_When I find that Jedi, I'm going to gut him myself._

She twisted her head around the hallway worriedly, realizing that Arctet and her sister were nowhere to be seen.

Mysteel pointed to a nearby pile of crates. "They're okay. I saw Arctet dive for cover the moment they got the drop on us,"

Sure enough, the dark haired youth raised his head from the pile of debris timidly, searching for signs of trouble. When he realized that their assailants were dead, he climbed out of the crate with a very grumpy looking child. At T'shere's adomishing glare he shrugged sheepishly.

"Survival instinct," he said simply.

Before anyone could reply, their channel came alive with chatter once more,

++Commander? This is sergeant… we are in the …mess.++ The voice disappeared in a fizzle of static. T'shere adjusted her headpiece until the voice returned. ++I repeat-, are you there?++

"This is the commander," said the Arkanian crisply.

++Glad to see you're alive ma'am,++ came her subordinate's voice.

"Status report,"

In the background she could hear a monstrous screech followed by a trio of blaster fire. It was complimented by the incessant growling of Abominations as they advanced, followed by confused shouts and more gunfire. From time to time, they also heard the telltale swoosh of a lightsaber.

++Multiple hostiles converging within the mess hall. We- are,++ the speaker was momentarily cut off as he shot something and was rewarded by a pitched shriek.

"Say again!" snapped T 'shere.

++Sorry commander. I said we are holding at the present. Heavy weapons are providing suppressive fire but there are more coming every moment. All junctures leading into the central wing have been cut off. We are entrenching ourselves for the moment.++

Despite the dire situation, the soldier's voice was remarkably calm. All of Kyne's underlings were veterans of hundreds of campaigns. They had seen horrors that would make a normal soldier retch. Getting disembodied by mutated freaks was just another day at the job for them.

"Dammit," muttered T'shere. Her eyes darted rapidly on her wrist mounted map display, trying to assess the best situation. Eventually she came to a decision.

"All units in combat, disengage and fall back to defensive positions Alpha and Gamma. Do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary. Use flamers if you have them,"

++Understood, I'll have auxiliaries converge on those locations as well,++

"No! Divert all available squads to the third floor. Make sure the children and noncombatants are all accounted for!" The Arkanian had to shout to make herself heard through the din.

++Yes commander,++ came the level reply.

"I'll try and link up with Lucidae, and provide intelligence. Hold out until then."

T'shere never got confirmation as the channel fizzled back into static. As she cursed silently, Mysteel grabbed her by the shoulder. T'shere could see that she looked extremely worried.

"What about mother?" Mysteel asked. "We can't just leave her alone,"

T'shere hesitated. Their mother could take care of herself in a firefight, and she was probably in the safest place right now. The Vault was a chamber reinforced with triple layers of adamanite metal gates and were gene coded only to open for Aethon's most trusted personnel. And as commander, she was duty bound to help her men.

But Thalia was family and the only mother she ever knew. Weighing the two responsibilities, the Arkanian knew what she must do

"You're right. We should find her. Make sure she is secure."

Mysteel looked relieved at her decision. T'shere gave Arctet a sideways glance.

"Follow me and stay close. And make sure our sister doesn't leave your sight."

The young scout nodded grimly. He looked afraid but the twitchy nervousness was gone from his face. In place of it was determination. For once, it looked like Arctet was going to buck up. With Mysteel and T'shere leading at the forefront, the group jogged cautiously through the hall, towards the unknown.

* * *

Revan turned his head sharply as the lights changed from blue to crimson red. The huge monitor's data feeds were suddenly replaced by a 3D floorplan. Red warning icons blossomed into existence every few seconds at different locations with alarming frequency.

"Is that-?"

"Yes," said Lucidae, confirming his suspicions. The Master's normally stoic face was replaced with something approaching surprise.

"We are under attack," He pressed one of the console controls.

"T'shere,"

Dead static filled the channel. Lucidae frowned before switching frequencies.

"Kynes,"

A few tense seconds passed before a garbled voice filled with background fire answered.

++Sir,++

"Status report,"

For a moment there was only the distant sound of concussive blasts before the sniper's voice replied.

"Wall breaches reported on levels 1, 2 and 3. Primary defence systems are offline. Multiple hostiles identified as-"

Kynes voice was suddenly cut off as a scream echoed in the background. There was a plethora of grunts and savage noises, followed by gunshots. Revan heard a lot of cursing then a gurgling noise before the cacophony dimmed somewhat.

++Force take these bastards!++ a soldier voice's shouted in the background. ++They're Abominations! Abominations have breached our defences,++

++What he said,++ said Kynes with the same measured timbre.

"Damnation," whispered Revan. Apparently the hunted had turned the tables sooner than anyone expected. He looked at Lucidae who seemed just as concerned as he did.

"How did they find us?"

"I'm not sure," admitted the Master. "Our sanctums are kept with the utmost secrecy. Only members know where we are at any given time."

His lips twisted. "The irony of Malleus finding me before I did is not lost upon me though."

He turned his attention back to the console.

"Kynes, your marker indicates you are in the Armory. Is T'shere with you?"

++Negative sir. There was a brief transmission before she got cut off. However she did leave instructions for the men to set up heavy weapon's emplacements in vulnerable checkpoints and the rest to entrench themselves in defensible positions.++

She hesitated for a moment before adding.

++Sir, I... they breached the perimeter without triggering the proximity alarms. Compromised our defences and communications without our notice. None of Malleus' lackeys could have done this.++

She left the disturbing revelation unsaid. That someone with technical skills that rivalled her own was working with the Cult.

"Priorities Kynes," said Lucidae. "We'll worry about that later. Right now we need to secure the critical sub sectors still in our control."

The Master took a few seconds to observe the dispersal of his troops as well as the enemy's through the monitor's projection.

"Fighting is intense in sectors A2 through A9 and will be overrun soon. Tell the men to collapses the ceilings and initiate a tactical withdrawal to the next fallback point. Have the men in sector-"

While the battle played out in a series of data feeds winking icons, Revan stared at the view screen, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. So far it seemed like Aethon was at an impasse with the enemy, the number of red and green icons remaining immobile and unchanged. He listened to the myriad of status reports coming in, letting his mind absorb the data with unbiased alacrity.

++This is Squad Alpha. We are holding position...++

++The bastards are shooting at us! Didn't even know they knew how to press a trigger++

++Maintain firing discipline men...don't let them through this gate,++

++Enemy has been pinned down. They're not going anywhere...++

++That's right you pussies, hide behind the walls.++

All the voices sounded remarkably calm which meant the situation seemed contained for the time being. Yet despite the reassuring transmissions, the more Revan listened the more he realized that something was wrong.

He focused his attention back onto the 3D schematic. Based on the pattern of hostiles seen around complex, the enemy's tactics were scattershot. While there were a lot of hostiles listed, there were no cohesive pattern in their movements. All they were doing was roaming from one room to the next, causing as much damage as possible and letting Lucidae's forces fall back relatively unharrassed.

"This is a distraction," he said suddenly. Lucidae turned back to look at him curiously.

"These attacks. They're designed to keep you occupied."

Kynes voice cut in.

++If by distraction you mean they are trying to kill us all then yes. I agree with you,++

Even through the firefighting, Revan could hear the annoyance in the sniper's voice.

++In case you haven't noticed men are scattered like rats and fighting for their lives. Communications are shot to hell. If it wasn't for the fallback positions, we would be overrun. Our tactics are-++

"First rule of war," interrupted Revan. "is to know your enemy's rules. Everything they have done suggests their knowledge of the cell's infrastructure, how you think. They hacked into your security grid and breached every level of your defence but are not pressing the attack,"

++Because we're entrenched,++ insisted Kynes. Another series of sharp bangs echoed in the background, the trademark sound of her Executioner. After a moment, she said.

++They might have breached our outer perimeter, but every room is a deathtrap. Even without the auto turrets we have enough proximity mines, murder holes and redoubts to give any enemy pause. Even the Abominations++

++Exactly, because they know that a direct spearhead attack would be suicidal. The Cult has dispersed their attacks, keeping multiple fronts occupied so a central command cannot be established. They have little hope of breaching, therefore they are deliberately prolonging this engagement. And that could only mean one thing,++

He turned to Lucidae who finished his line of reasoning.

"Keeping us occupied…while they steal from under our noses."

"Welcome to the end of the thought process," said Revan grimly. He gestured to the projection screen.

"Enough secrets. You need to tell me where you kept the weapon"

Lucidae nodded reluctantly before a look of worry came onto his face. "If they know where it is hidden…then that means they likely know about..."

The Master's eyes widened. "No. It cannot be,"

"What is it?"

The Master didn't respond immediately, brows furrowed in deep thought. Eventually he said.

"There is a secret chamber in this base, where I keep my most potent items and relics."

"Relics? You mean artifacts, valuable items?"

The Master nodded.

"Of a sorts. The weapon is among them. That must be their target." He rubbed his chin "But how would they even know..."

He broke of suddenly and pressed a button on the computer.

"Kynes,"

++Sir,++ came the dispassionate reply.

"I need you to go down to the Vault and make sure it hasn't been breached. Disengage from your current position and exfiltrate to the lowest level,"

++Understood,++

"I'm sending Revan along with you. Link up with him at level 3, then proceed down."

There was a momentary hesitation at this latest piece of news. It seemed like the spy wanted to protest but the chain of command was ingrained deep into her psyche. ++Confirmed,++ she said eventually.

Lucidae turned back to the Jedi.

"It seems I will need your aid sooner then I thought. Will you do help me protect the vault?"

Revan nodded, flexing his aching joints. He still felt weak from the fight, but massive blood loss never stopped him from a fight. Especially not when something so important was on the line.

"And you?"

"With Kynes gone and T'shere MIA, the chain of command falls to me. And I can't risk the Abominations taking over the control room. I will need to coordinate the forces from here. Go up a level then straight down the hall. The passage to the vault lies there. Wait for Kynes before proceeding."

Revan nodded grimly and turned to leave. Before he left though Lucidae gave him a parting remark.

"Whatever happens Revan...know that you will be tested,"

The Jedi turned his head briefly and said, "Of that, I have never been in doubt,"

With that, he walked swiftly out of the chamber and into the heart of the storm.


	26. Chapter 26  The Capture

_Hello Thalia_

_-Matarl_

* * *

It was like waking into a living nightmare.

That was the only way Matarl could describe the sensation after what had just transpired. He thought he would feel satisfaction, _joy_ even, but the blood and screaming plagued his thoughts, echoing over and over again. If he lived another hundred years, Matarl would still remember that one moment for the anguish was forever burned into back of his head.

And now, he knew why Malleus was known as the _Corrupter of Souls_.

* * *

(40 minutes ago)

A roaring cacophony signified the detonation of the charges, huge chunks of concrete, plastic and brick crumbling to reveal a makeshift passage. Matarl, sporting a dual set of blasters emerged from the ruins into some sort of natural cave. A few dim lights hung on the ceilings, flickering erratically from the violent after shocks. By the number of crates and scattered trolleys, it looked like they had stumbled into a storage area of some sort. A cellar should have been relatively secluded, but as Matarl had warned earlier, Aethon did not take kindly to intrusion.

"I think we're clea-"

The sound of crashing footsteps was the first indication their presence had been detected. Twisting his head, the Twi'lek glimpsed the shadowy figures as they burst through the door on the opposite side of the room. Matarl eyes widened as he recognized the droids and soldiers in black armor and opaque visors wielding _havoc_ pattern blasters. Most importantly, he recognized the insignia on their shoulderpads: a weeping woman embossed on a bone white skull.

These were _Widowmakers_, Republic assault squads from Kyne's former regiment. _Widowmakers _were elite shock troopers, deployed in the most dangerous combat zones and infamous for their incredibly violent kills. Matarl had once seen a single squad decimate an entire Mandalorion raiding party with nothing but their pointy sticks, a corkscrew and a lot of jaunty singing. Matarl had expected resistance...but really, this was just pure overkill. Whatever they were guarding down here must have been _really_ valuable.

The sergeant of the _Widowmakers, _a grizzled black bearded man barked an order and three armored columns of weapons opened fire filling the room with murderous intent.

_Shi-_

Matarl barely managed to dodge into a row of scattered crates as bright lances _hissed_ overhead. Chunks of wood and brick were immediately reduced to slag from the superheated energy. The cacophony was ear splitting. Crawling on his hands and feet to avoid the red hail, Matarl nevertheless felt chunks of brick and wood fall on his back. The _Widowmakers_ were laying waste to everything in the room, heedless of the collateral damage. Typical.

The Rutian cursed, realizing the flimsy wood and metal barrier that separated him from the blaster fire wouldn't hold much longer. Just as he began to think his protection was collapsing, Malleus strode forth and put his body in the _Widowmakers_ line of sight.

"The hell is that?" one of the soldiers grunted when they saw him.

"A casualty in the making," replied the sergeant. "Purge it from existence"

In response, devastation descended upon Malleus like rain. Bright red energy puckered and burned the _Renatus_' skin, but could have been rainwater for all the reaction the former Jedi gave. He started growling then, perhaps in amusement, the sound like a chainsaw coming to life.

Ignoring the withering waves of punishment that peppered his ruined body, Malleus launched himself like an arrow into the belly of the beast. Before any of the _Widowmakers_ could even blink, the _Renatus_ had crossed the breadth of the room and into melee range.

Matarl dared to look up from the shattered crates and saw Malleus kill his first victim by punching a claw straight through the armor. The blow literally went straight _past_ the victim's chest cavity and out the back, chunks of bone vomiting out from the wound. The guard screamed as his shoulder literally sprouted a new appendage.

His comrades remained commendably calm despite the grissly scene, backing away and firing at Malleus with another volley of controlled shots. Malleus ignored the nuisance, lifting his quarry with one hand and discarding him with a flick of disdain. At their sergeant's command, the soldiers scattered but the fleshy projectile hurled into their droid counterparts. The automatons came apart in miniature explosions and sizzling circuits as the force of the missile reduced three of the droids into scrap.

At this point, the defenders already knew they were outmatched. They might have been the elite among men but Malleus was a god among mortals. Commendably or perhaps stupidly, they didn't retreat. The sergeantroared another command and the soldiers drew their vibroblades. Forming into a semicircle, they charged at Malleus with murderous warcries, intent on hacking their foe into pieces. More likely, they just wanted to die horribly.

Surprisingly, Malleus didn't even try to defend their assault, letting the _Widowmakers _draw first blood. Vibroblades were valued for its lethal but elegant design, outfitted with a cortosis weave which could deflect even a lightsaber. And with their ultrasonic generators, the Twi'lek didn't want to know how much damage they could do to unprotected flesh.

Malleus staggered ever so slightly as the first blade punctured a hole through his abdomen, more from the force of the momentum than any real pain. The next strike severed tendons from his neck in a gout of black blood. Then another. And another. The _Widowmakers_ hacked away manfully like a forester hacks wood, gaining confidence with their numbers.

"See men?" roared the sergeant. "Bastard bleeds like anybody else,"

Matarl cringed as the strikes flayed chunks of flesh from Malleus' body to reveal the bone underneath. And yet Malleus _still_ didn't retaliate. At this rate, the _Widowmakers_ would turn Malleus into ghoul flesh and leave Matarl to at their mercy...Then he would never get his revenge.

_What are you doing? Fight fool!_

Matarl was about to take a raise one of his blasters for a revenge shot when Malleus sidestepped, causing two of his opponents to stumble. The _Renatus_ right hand lashed out and a crimson spray of light emerged from his sleeve, a natural extension to his body. With a whispering hiss, his lightsaber beheaded the two guards, their heads popping off like corks from a wine bottle. Even before their bodies hit the ground, Malleus killed another with a swift elbow to the man's helmet. The soldier's visor caved in along with the rest of his nose with a sickening _crunch_, his face reduced to pulpy brain matter.

The _Widowmakers _suddenlyrealized their mistake. By surrounding the _Renatus_ they had consigned themselves to quick and horrible death. It was too late to retreat though as Malleus form became an indistinctive blur and he began laying waste to the survivors like a thresher through chaff.

The guards began dying in droves beneath Malleus scything cuts. The ancient Jedi, imbued with the strength of an ancient Sith bloodline, fought with a brutality that Matarl had never seen in any warrior. With each attack, something went flying across the room, usually a head or a limb. Men screamed as their bodies were crushed by a stomping foot or slashed apart by a red haze too quick for the eye to follow.

Matarl stared on in horrid fascination, absorbing every second with photo clarity. One moment Malleus was ripping pieces of coiled wires from a droid's neck with his fangs, next he was disemboweling the roaring sergeant, his diamond hard claws shredding past the soldier's armor like paper. That death was particularly painful. Malleus had ripped the man's entrails out with savage jerks, the glistening meat making a sickening sucking sound as part of it snapped free. The sergeant had collapsed to the floor, and his roars became the brayings of a pig. Malleus didn't bother putting him out of his misery. Instead he took the stringy rope and lashed it around another survivor's neck like a whip, gagging him.

_This is slaughter. _Matarl thought as Malleus pulled his victim in and garrotted the man with his former superior's intestines.

And it _was_ a slaughter. Victus' was a brutal murderer but even his excesses paled compared to his Master. Yet something niggled at the back of Matarl's mind, something that told him there was something fundamentally different about this carnage. Most obviously, Malleus didn't laugh. And unlike Victus there was an almost clinical detachment to Malleus' violence, his movements economical, and designed to maim and kill with brutal but efficient thrusts.

_Something is wrong...he's not killing them right._

Then it hit him.

Malleus killed these guards because they were in his way, not because he hated them. There was no emotion in his executions, no sense of pleasure in the kill. Somehow this was even more terrifying than Victus' indiscriminate violence. If someone hated you, at least you could understand why they wanted you dead. But to Malleus, his victims really were nothing more than hallow sacks of flesh. These guards and droids were so far beneath his notice, he wouldn't even give them the _dignity_ of being hated.

_They're not men to him. Just meat that screams and shits themselves when they die. _

When Malleus was finally done with his butcher work, there was nothing that remained which even remotely resembled his victims. All that was left to mark their demise were stringy pieces of meat, the offal gently steaming from the brutal cuts of Malleus' lightsaber. Malleus stood victorious, a ragged caricature of the once noble warrior he used to be. A piece of dead flesh flesh sloughed off Malleus' skull, splattering unceremoniously among his victims.

He offered Matarl the briefest glance before moving wordlessly out the door.

Matarl realized he had been holding his breath throughout the whole exchange. With effort he managed to tear his gaze away from the macabre scene and follow Malleus through the exit.

* * *

Klaxons blared around them, the drone like a hundred buzzing insects. Red lights winked angrily on the ceiling, bathing everything it touched with a blood sheen. Between the noise and the seizing lights, Matarl was finding it impossible to hear himself think.

And yet, the Renatus led the way with clear purposeful steps, despite have no prior knowledge of the layout. They had infiltrated into what seemed like endless network of rocky caves, the elaborate labyrinth resembling an ant colony. First right, then left, left again, down through some stairs before going straight, the-… Matarl eventually lost any sense of direction amongst the seemingly endless maze of corridors, but he trusted Malleus enough to lead them to this... "Vault". Matarl didn't have the slightest clue how going there would help _him_, but he had to believe he had made the right choice in allying himself with the Cult. He had come to far, sacrificed too much for self doubt.

The Rutian _did_ take a few minutes to replay the initial scene and assess his emotions. His first reaction had been revulsion, certainly. Revulsion at the fact that anybody could die such brutal deaths. But as time went on, he began think things through. Why should he feel revulsion? Every remaining member in Aethon were his enemy. They had kicked him out and left him to rot in the edges of the galaxy, a fate worse an death in his mind. No, if anything he should be rejoicing for their grizzly demise. Matarl took solace in that thought. Malleus had just done him a huge favor. With every kill, the Renatus was helping him enact his private vendetta.

He almost convinced himself to believe it.

Minutes after the initial breach, their progress was still relatively unhindered. Thanks to his technical expertise, Matarl had ensured every automated defence protocol linked to the security network remained disabled. Whereas any other intruders would have had to deal with an endless gauntlet of tripwires, concealed guns and force fields, all they had to worry about were the inhabitants. These proved pathetically trivial for the Renatus. The odd soldier was quickly cut down, swept away without so much as a second glance by Malleus as he marched through the corridors with all the confidence of a man possessed. Matarl took a moment to spit on each corpse.

As time grew on, Matarl also began feeling a trickling sense of anticipation. Things seemed to be turning like clockwork now, each step they took closer bringing them closer to a pre-determined event. It was like something was calling to him within these walls, a siren's song that pleaded for them to find-

Matarl froze. They had turned another corner no different from any else. But staring ahead, he knew beyond a reason of a doubt that they had arrived at their destination.

_The vault..._

* * *

The doors were huge, over three feet high and engraved with the ancient Jedi symbol that Aethon took its namesake from: a starburst with angelic wings. Spotlights on the ceilings illuminated the heavy gates with an eerie blue glow. One of the sentinels guarding the door was a statue as large as the gate it protected. Judging by its chiseled clothing, the figure was meant to be a Jedi of some import, the face stern and uncompromising as it stared down at the intruders.

The sentinel to the other side was quite alive though.

The guard widened his eyes in surprise when the two intruders appeared around the corner. He yelled something into his helmet while simultaneously raising his blaster. The weapon never discharged. Malleus raised his hand at the some moment as the soldier's and with a gesture, his weapon came apart like a toy; metal, bolts and plugs shearing into scrap metal. But that wasn't the only thing that was crushed.

The Renatus made a fist and the guard contorted like a puppet, his body becoming as taut as a rope. Slowly and painfully, his body amour began to creak, the immense pressure splintering the metal with spider webs. Bolts and screws popped out of the hinges and the soldier's visor cracked opened to reveal the horrified expression beneath. Matarl smiled as Malleus crushed the man like a discarded ration can.

The soldier tried to scream but the only sound that came out was the snapping of bone. One of his eyes popped out as the pressure from the grip reached unbearable heights. Blood spewed from his ears and brain matter leaked from his missing socket until finally, the man split apart like an overripe melon. Then, only bloody slurry remained, leaking out to the Twi'lek's feet in rivulets. Matarl felt a sick sense of satisfaction when his boots squelched over the mess.

They approached the vault doors and Matarl noticed the gates were several inches of reinforced adamantine steel with no obvious locking mechanism. The Twi'lek doubted any of the explosives he carried could get through that.

Malleus did not seem concerned with the obstacle. He pressed his palm into the metal, and brought his head close, listening for several seconds. Whatever Malleus heard must have satisfied him because he lashed out with his lightsaber and struck the metal with a savage thrust. The lightsaber glowed red hot as it pierced deeper with agonizing slowness, like it was entering a women for the first time. When the blade was through to its hilt, the decrepit thing began carving. Metal hissed and spit in protest as the lightsaber traced a jagged outline.

When the deed was done, the _Renatus_ growled and pushed the weakened metal with a bony hand. The huge slab creaked and groaned for a few seconds, then moved inwards. Malleus kept on pushing for a full metre until the displaced barrier toppled with a resounding thud that sounded like a gong. Before the dust even settled, Malleus strode fearlessly into the inner sanctum, seemingly unconcerned with any dangers that lurked ahead. Matarl followed more cautiously.

* * *

The room was bathed in shadows that obscured most of the details, but as his eyes refocused the Rutian found himself gasping. He was in another cave roughly twenty meters in diameter. But unlike the others, this one domed smoothly, with a spiralling hole that reached up to touch a hidden sky. Metal doors lined the circumference of the cave, the pattern of entrances like an elaborate insect hive. Luminescent globes floating several inches off the floor radiated a calm blue light that cast the entire room in dire shadows, its pattern somehow beautiful and foreboding at the same time. The layout was strange enough but what caught Matarl's attention was the treasure.

Rows upon rows of artifacts lay across the centre of the room. Among other things he saw racks of blades of archaic design, full suits of exquisitely etched Mandalorian helmets, robed statues of figures that Matarl didn't recognize. The variety of items were was almost infinite, all encased within metal rimmed glass. All in all, the layout of the remarkable place resembled a...

_A museum, _he mused, staring at the relics. _A remembrance of an age past._

The Rutian could feel the weight of time impressed upon these items. Matarl circled the awesome display with almost reverent steps.

"I…Lucidae never...He never showed me these things." Croaked Matarl as he took in the awesome sights.

"I guess he never trusted me..."

Malleus didn't respond. Matarl turned to the other man who become as still as a statue.

"What-?"

The Renatus continued to ignore him, head cocked to one side.

"Little bird…skulking in the shadows" he whispered suddenly into the darkness. "Do you really think you can delay the inevitable?"

Matarl froze at the words, unaware they were not alone. Before he could draw his weapon, a trio of red hot beams lashed out seemingly from nowhere, striking Malleus in the chest and head. Unlike conventional small arms fire, these shots ripped through his garments and out the back. Malleus' roar sounded like a part of his soul was being ripped away. Matarl's eyes widened in fear as he realized for the first time, his ally was truly hurt.

Even as the Renatus staggered back from the punishment, Matarl whipped his head wildly to look for the culprit. His sharp eyes saw a shadow flicker slightly near a set of pillars at the far end of the room.

Instinctively, he raised one of his marksman's pistol and fired. The shadow detached itself from the pillars just as the weapon barked. His shots sparked against the wall and obliterated a set of ancient paintings, but narrowly missed his target. The Rutian cursed but he continued firing in the general vicinity of his quarry, using instinct more than anything he could see. Each of his shots destroyed ornaments, statues and pottery but the elusive form continued to dart and duck. As Matarl paused his onslaught to reload one of his weapons, the shadow fired in retaliation forcing him to dive behind the Mandalorian armor. The blasts melted the chest plate metal into useless slag. Matarl stared at the hot pieces of molten metal in disbelief as it dripped to his feet.

Scrambling back up, he turned to see his shadowy adversary a few meters away. From this distance, he could see his opponent was wearing some sort of opaque mask, with two glinting rubies for eyes. The silhouette was poised to fire the potent weapon. Matarl's first thought was to dive behind another blockade, but something in the back of his mind mocked that notion. Was he going to scuttle away again like a rat again? What was a gun to compared to his fists? Guns were useless after you clawed their eyes out with bare hands and sucked the blood from their wound…

The first shot narrowly missed his head, but served to jolt the voices away. Surging with anger, the Rutian broke from cover and charged his target. The shadow clearly wasn't expecting this. The next shot was rushed, only singing the side of his arms. Matarl felt the flare of pain, but it seemed a distant thing to the blood rush in his skull. With a snarl, Matarl lowered his head and bull rushed his opponent, tackling him to the floor.

They grappled for many desperate seconds, heedless of the priceless items that shattered as they clawed and punched each other. Matarl tried to pin the bastard by the shoulder while the other desperately tried to keep him at arm's length. Just as one of his hands found purchase on the enemy's neck, Matarl felt a hammer blow strike him just below the chin. Dazed, the Rutian's grip loosened, and his opponent kicked him into the ground before slithered away.

Matarl shook his head to clear the cobwebs, staggering up before his opponent could take advantage of his vulnerable position. He looked up just in time to see the glint of metal rushing up to meet his face. Panicking, Matarl tried to block the blade with his firearm, but his attacker easily dodged the clumsy attempt and cut him in the chest. Matarl hissed in pain. The nasty blade cut through his body armor effortlessly, drawing a livid gash.

"Bastard son of a Rancor!"

Matarl raised his blaster, thinking to shoot the other point blank, but that weapon was swept away by a summersault kick. He barely registered the loss when another kick struck him in the groin. The Twi'lek howled in agony as he collapsed, clutching his wounded area. Even as he mewled pathetically on the ground, he had enough of his senses to see the shadow kneeling over him, ready to deliver the deathblow. The Rutian struggled feebly, but disarmed, winded and cornered he had little hope of avoiding the strike.

Matarl hoped death would come quickly at least, but the fatal strike never came. There was a brief flash of red light from the corner of his eye and a shriek. Matarl saw pieces of the blade and blaster clatter to the floor beside him in a pile of junk. The shadowy turned away from Matarl and tried to run away.

Malleus was faster though. He lunged out with his free hand and grabbed the nuisance by the scruff of its neck. The enemy thrashed and punched him but the _Renatus _just laughed. He clawed the front of his victim's face and ripped off the mask to expose the vulnerable flesh beneath. The enemy finally stopped struggling when the tip of a lightsaber came to rest just millimeters from the eyes.

"As fierce as you were before...aren't you" rasped Malleus.

Immobile and against the pale red glow of the Renatus' weapon, Matarl finally saw the person who had caused him so much pain.

"Hello Thalia," he growled.

* * *

Revan felt like every step was one deeper into anarchy.

He had emerged into what he supposed was the nursery wing. Unlike most sections of the base, this one did not have a standing military presence and consequently had not held up well to the surprise attack. Blood smears marred the walls in garish contrast to childish scrawlings on the wall. Corpses lay splayed in various disturbing positions, the floors sticky with their fluid. A few of them were definitely Abominations but lying amongst them were dozens of Humans, along with Twi'leks, Neimodians, Arkanians...Revan lost count. If they were lucky, the victims were only missing part of their chest or neck. The unlucky ones were hung by ropes of their own weapon straps like macabre ornaments. To say desecration came naturally to these depraved scions of Ajunta Pall was probably the understatement of the century.

It looked like the fiends had moved after culling this section of the base but Revan suspected otherwise. Lucidae once described the Cult as a cancer, something that polluted and corrupted everything they touched. And like all cancers, the Cult had a penchant for lingering, even when you thought they we gone.

Revan hated it when he was right.

He found a side room with a battered door clogged with bodies. It seemed like a squad of soldiers had made a last ditch stand here against the enemy to prevent them entrance. Based on their wounds and the gratuitous amount of blood, it had been a brutal but one sided melee.

Revan looked inside to see what was so valuable that the soldiers would risk their lives. What he saw were a dozen miniature corpses, unrecognizable amongst the half eaten flesh and broken bones. Revan realized to his horror, they could only belong to children. Based on the types of wounds seeping from their little bodies, the children's deaths had been agonizingly slow.

He looked away, fighting the urge to hurl. Almost unconsciously, he stumbled to another room where a pair of Abominations were gorging on a soldier's intestines. In their infinite malice, the monsters were keeping their victim alive during their feast. Their bloody hands pulled out warm pulsating organ matter and ripped them into bloody chunks with needle like teeth while the poor soldier wailed incoherently. The Abominations were so focused on their excesses, they didn't notice Revan until he cut their heads off with one brutal swing of his lightsaber.

When he turned to the victim, Revan realized the poor soul was beyond helping. His stomach was an utter mess, bloody entrails splayed across the entire floor like sphagetti. Death clung to him as surely as the stench of urine and feces, wafting up like decay. Even if this man was whisked off to surgery right now, he would have died on the table. And the screaming. Revan had never heard such pure, wretched, undiluted pain.

_"Help me!" _the soldier screamed when he saw the Jedi.

"I'm sorry," Revan said solemnly. "I can't do-"

_"Kill me you idiot!"_

The Jedi hesitated only for a brief moment, before thrusting his lightsaber into the man's chest and ending his anguish. The soldier stopped screaming, but the expression of turmoil remained. Revan walked out the room leadenly and continued his search to cull as many of the stragglers as possible.

* * *

_So many corpses. _Revan thought despairing _There must be survivors._

His hopes were not rewarded.

Whether it was simply another mutilated corpse or a stray Abomination gorging on dead flesh, Revan found nothing worth saving. The best he could do was put the murderers to the blade. He didn't waste time with fancy sword thrusts or dazzling displays of swordsmanship against the likes of them. The Jedi simply culled the cancers as quickly and brutally as possible, dismembering their limbs, dashing their heads on the floor or with a straight thrust into their black and shriveled hearts.

This was butcher's work, pure and simple, the economy of motion designed to distance himself from the putrid task. It was supposed to be justice, but each kill only made him feel more soiled. Before long, the Jedi was once again coated in blood and grime up to his chest

_Damn you Ajunta Pall. _Revan thought bitterly as he swiped the head off another fiend.

_Damn your bastard legacy._

With the cleanup work, it seemed like an eternity before he finally reached the end of the nursery and into the main hall. This room was the hub of the level, connecting to other locations like the mess hall and armoury. In the centre was the elevator, which he and Kynes would presumably take, however there was no sight of the sniper. For the moment, the Jedi took stock of his surroundings. The ceiling lights flickered erratically casting blinking shadows in the corners of the room. Through the darkness, he could make out half a dozen corpses splayed face down around the hall. Like all the other rooms, blood ran slick on the tiled floor. Yet, despite the desecrations, the hall was eerily quiet without an Abomination in sight.

As he looked for hostiles, a flickering movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Revan jerked his head at the threat, but all he saw was a pillar blinking in and out from utter darkness. The Jedi shook his head.

_Shadows_. _I am jumping at shadows..._

A dull moan caught his attention. One of the guards was crawling to slowly in his direction, his face down from the exertion. Revan was surprised. He didn't think there were any more survivors in this area. He started jogging towards the man.

"It's okay. I'm here to help,"

The man didn't reply, he just kept crawling, his lolling head staring at the floor. The wounded soldier continued to emit the same dull groaning noise, like a rackety engine on the verge of collapse.

"Stay calm. Where are you-"

Revan's eyes narrowed as he reached out a hand. Something was wrong. The uniform was too large for the man. And the blood...there was a lot of blood, but he couldn't see any obvious wound. The rumbling under the man's breath became louder...

Then suddenly he pounced up at the Jedi, his face contorted impossibly wide, showing a nest of needle like teeth.

_Damna-!_

The monster bulldozed into him, but Revan wasn't caught completely off guard. He managed to grab the Abomination by the throat with both hands before tumbling on the ground in a fleshy heap. The pair struggled, rolling on the floor with grunts and curses. The Abomination snapped at his exposed face, narrowly missing his jugular. Revan felt his grip slipping from the monster's neck as it thrashed wildly. Thinking fast, the Jedi changed tactics and thrust his face forward, head butting the monster straight in the mouth. He felt dozen's of the monster's teeth shatter like twigs and the Abomination keened in pain and rage. When Revan felt the muscles of his neck grow slack, he twisted savagely, one hundred and eighty degrees. There was an audible snap of bone and monster suddenly became slack, black tongue hanging uselessly from its ruined mouth.

The Jedi didn't waste a moment to savor his kill. He rose hastily to his feet, igniting his lightsaber. His worst fears were confirmed. The 'corpses' had risen to their feet, all five of them. Revan realized they were all Abominations, dressed in the clothes of their victims. Within the recesses of the shadows, Revan saw red blades hiss to life with deadly promise and two aspirants stepped into view. They began converging on the Jedi. Every face was contorted with hate and burning anticipation as they began to surround him.

Revan cursed beneath his breath, realizing he had underestimated his prey. The entire hall has been an elaborate setup. Like a fly caught in a web, Revan had stumbled into the spider's lair. He had thought Abominations to be mindless savages, but in truth, they all retained a universal feral cunning that made them such effective hunters. During their first encounter, he had set up his own elaborate traps to kill them one by one. And now, they had just done the exact same thing to him. Revan could scarcely believe it, but the Abominations were learning. The notion he was out maneuvered by a bunch of savages was so ironic he wanted to laugh.

He never got the chance. The disguised monsters exploded into motion. They charged at him with reckless abandon, a veritable horde of death that wouldn't be denied. Revan lowered himself into a fighting stance, determined to sell his life dearly for this deception. The first Abomination was almost upon him, shrieking like a banshee, talons poised for the kill...

...until its head pitched back and a fountain of black ooze gushing in the middle of its skull. The next two were dispatched in a similarly brutal fashion, dying with perfectly placed shots in the forehead.

Revan's eyes widened. He couldn't see where the shots came from but he had a pretty good idea of the culprit.

The distraction brought Revan all the time he needed. As the Abominations reeled in surprise at the counter ambush, the Jedi waved into the mass of flesh and his lightsaber began tearing a path of carnage among his assailants. His first victim died gurgling, as his weapon burned a gaping hole through his neck. He ducked under the next Abomination who had tried a leaping tackle, using the enemy's own momentum to pitch the monster wildly through the air. A perfectly placed shot ripped through the flying victim's eye socket and the Abomination was dead before it hit the floor.

Revan found himself crossing blades with an Aspirant next, their two blades flashing once, twice then thrice in rapid succession. The Jedi didn't let up the pace, following through with downward slash to the head. Even as the enemy raised his lightsaber to deflect, Revan felt the singeing heat of a bullet whistle past his neck and core the Apsirant through his exposed throat. Blood spurted from the horrendous wound as he fell to one knee gagging.

With the Aspirant so incapacitated, it was the easiest thing in the world for the Jedi to split his opponent skull in, crispy brain matter hissing as his lightsaber cleaved through his skull as smoothly as suet.

The remaining hostiles backed away shrieking, apparently thinking better about this fight. Then as one, they bounded away back into the shadows, out one of the adjoining corridors. Revan's first thought was to pursue and butcher the fiends but decided there were more pressing matters to deal with. But first, he turned to look at his unexpected partner.

Kynes materialized into his view, almost like she was stepping out of a black curtain. She looked impassively at her handiwork before her dark soulless eyes went up to meet the Jedi's, her weapon still cocked and ready.

"You like to keep things interesting," She remarked cooly. The sniper looked at the corpse flesh Revan had mutilated with no more interest than someone doing the dishes.

"So do you," Revan replied neutrally, rubbing the side of his neck which still felt the sting of her deadly bullet. That was too close for comfort. One more inch, and she would have nicked an artery. He noticed in lieu of the relatively confined area, the sniper sported a marksman's pistol instead of her traditional Executioner.

Kyne's face betrayed the slightest tick at his comment.

"Is that a shot?" she asked with deceptive calm.

"The truth,"

In response, the sniper pointed her weapon at the Jedi. Revan tensed reflexively. Before he could raise his own weapon, Kynes fired. Several things seemed to happen at once. He felt the whoosh of air past his ear, a sharp clang then a muffled scream. Revan turned in surprise and saw a black form drop from the ceiling with a sickening crunch. It was an Abomination, with a widening red hole sprouting between its eyebrows. The monster had been crawling up slowly to their position, like a spider before Kynes had felled it with a single bullet.

Revan's eyes widened. He realized with him in front of her, the sniper had no way to shoot directly at the monster. Instead her bullet had whizzed past him, ricocheted off an iron pipe on the wall and struck the Abonination in the head. In short, it had been an impossible shot. His respect for the sniper grew exponentially. Hell, he could almost understand why Kyne's leather clad lethality would be so enticing to T'shere.

With the last threat dealt with, Kynes lowered her pistol and walked past him to the elevators like nothing strange had happened.

"Follow me," she the sniper curtly as she pressed a rapid combination into the lift console.

"We'll take this down to the vault level. Be on guard."

Revan didn't dare to contradict her.

* * *

Matarl stared at the female who had changed the course of his life. Seeing her once again brought a mixture of loathing, desire and guilt. With Malleus clutching her neck in a vice, Matarl deprived her of all weapons: combat knives, blasters and other miscellaneous bits of equipment. Matarl made sure to pat her down thoroughly, knowing Thalia's penchant for concealment. He was sorely tempted to strip search her but decided it wasn't appropriate for the situation. Still, groping her body this way brought back pleasant memories. Thalia was understandably angry, but with Malleus breathing down her neck, she didn't try anything rash. Only when her hands and feet were bound with razor thin rope did Malleus relinquish his grip. He stared at the Twi'lek for a long moment with milky eyes, his expression unreadable. Thalia stared back defiantly, apparently not the least fazed that she was in the grasp of her former tormentor.

Eventually, Malleus turned his scrutiny to the rows upon rows of metal doors lining the chamber like holes in an insect hive.

"What now?" asked Matarl uneasily. "We won't be alone for long. Do you see what you're looking for?"

"I need time to search," replied Malleus without looking at him.

"Then let me reactivate the defense systems on this level at least. I can program them to target indiscriminately to buy us time,"

It was true enough. With full autonomy over the cell's defence grid, he could turned any part of the base's defense systems against Aethon, something he had suggested before the assault. Surprisingly Malleus had refused. And now he refused again.

"No, not until it is time," the Renatus said simply

Matarl wanted to ask what he meant but the former Jedi had started walking away, towards the far side of the room.

"Stay here."

Matarl stared in confusion but decided not to press the point. They were safe enough for now, with Malleus' little pets causing chaos all across the base. When the fiend was well out of earshot, the Twi'lek turned back to their captor. He gave her a cold smile as he knelt down to eye level.

"Just like old times, eh?" He husked. Matarl inched closer to her neck to breathe in her scent. It was as intoxicating as ever, perhaps even more so with his enhanced senses. Thalia didn't give him the satisfaction of flinching away. In fact, she didn't seem to recognize him at all.

"That voice...you sound familiar,"

"Sound-!" Matarl fumed. He drew back instinctively to slap her but managed to restrain himself at the last moment. Taking a deep breath, he said.

"Have you forgotten how you sent me to hell already, you two timing slut?"

Thalia looked confused by his choice of words. She stared at him for a long moment until her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Matarl!" she said incredulously. "Is that you?"

"Of course!" he snapped. "How could you not recognize me?"

"Why would I? You look like a corpse"

The words gave Matarl pause and he took a moment to take stock of himself. It was worse than he thought. Aside from the torn and bloody clothing, his palour was pale and black. Thick distended veins pulsed out from his arms to his wrists like worms trying to mate with his limbs. Inwardly, he shuddered at the changes that had been wrought onto his body.

"And now, you've allied yourself with the most despicable and dangerous person in the galaxy."

Thalia gave him a contemptuous look.

"I always thought you listened to your cock more than common sense. But now, I see you don't even have sense at all,"

That _did_ earn her a backhand, the sound of impact as loud as a cracking whip. It happened before Matarl put conscious thought in the act. Thalia spat out blood but otherwise didn't make a sound. When she turned back, Thalia could see Matarl's horrendous scowl, teeth bared.

"Three years you conniving bitch. This reunion is all I've been thinking about for three years. Ever since you're damning words got me kicked out,"

"You were lucky to leave at all," said Thalia coldly, a thin trail of blood creeping out from the corner of her mouth. "If it wasn't for Lucidae's decision, my daughters would have gutted you like a piece of meat and left you in a dark alley to rot."

"Thankful?" roared Matarl. The Rutian surged forward, threatening to lash out again on the defenseless female. Instead he moved menacingly into Thalia's personal space, their bodies only millimetres apart. Matarl's face was brittle porcelain, the muscles in his jaw standing out like iron chords.

"Thankful," he repeated trembling. "For taking away my son? For getting me blacklisted from every legitimate mercenary group? For eating shit every single day and pissing it out in blood?"

His voice became guttural as he spewed put his venom. Black spittle dribbled down his chin and a fair amount pelted Thalia on the face. Thalia pointedly wiped her right cheek with her sleeve.

"You got no more than you deserved for your crimes,"

"Crimes." Matarl sneered. "Oh that's rich coming from a slut like you Thalia."

He jabbed a finger none too kindly at one of her breasts. Thalia responded by head butting him in the face. Black ichor spewed from his shattered nose but Matarl barely felt it. After all the pain he had been through, this was almost like foreplay. The Twi'lek even smiled at getting a rise from the stone cold bitch.

"For old times sake?'" he lisped.

"Go to hell,"

"Such coldness, but I shouldn't be surprised," chuckled Matarl with false humour. He stood back up and spread his hands to either side.

"I was just another number to you, wasn't I? Another male that you walked over and played with to your heart's content before getting bored,"

Thalia didn't deign to dignify that with a response. Her dismissiveness brought another surge of anger in his gullet and his face become feral again.

"Tell me whore," he growled suddenly. "Why did you play so hard to get with me when you practically spread your legs for every soldier who looks your way?"

Thalia's expression grew icy at the accusation.

"You're as deluded as the day we kicked you out." she said flatly. "I never put out for anyone in this group. And I _never_ as you say 'played hard to get'. Especially with a blowhard like you,"

Matarl spat on the floor.

"Don't play games with me Thalia. Not anymore. You might have gotten others to think of you as a doting mother, but you can't protect the image by spreading slander."

"Slander?" hissed Thalia. "Matarl, you raped me."

_"Lies!"_

The words came out instinctively. Yet when he processed the accusation, he felt a curious sensation. Anger? Guilt? No uncertainty. Matarl shook the feeling away.

"You lie. I did nothing of the sort," he growled.

Thalia laughed coldly in his face.

"Oh my mistake. I must have tripped and landed on your rampant manhood then."

Matarl grimaced at the insult, clenching his fists in and out while Thalia continued to mock him.

"And I must have imagined the part where you had your goons hold me down while you shoved yourself in over and over again. Oh and the part where you passed me along to the rest of the vermin, letting them take turns like I was some piece of meat? Complete fabrication."

Each word was tinged with just the right amount of sarcasm and venom. Matarl tried to defend himself from the verbal abuse, but could not formulate the words properly. Over the years, he had tried to dissemble the memory into hazy truisms. A wild night of excess. Thalia turning cold on him. His son stolen and reputation torn apart...

"Ngggh,"

In the back of his head, he heard something growling, like a chained beast. His subconscious was growing angrier by the second, its inner demons blocking out Thalia's damning words and invoking a barrier of hate.

_Lies, Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies..._

So many voices. Matarl grabbed his head in pain, trying to shake them away. Thalia didn't seem to notice his distress.

"Tell me Matarl, is that how you whelped your child? By raping a defenseless woman?"

"No...stop it. Stop twisting the truth," hissed Matarl, clutching his head as the pressure began to mount.

"You must be so proud of yourself. Next time, pay a whore to sire your bastard children."

"_Enough!_ Shouted Matarl. With an incoherent roar, he kicked the bounded Twi'lek and she stumbled into the dirt. Thalia gasped in pain as the metal boot connected repeatedly with her abdomen. When she had curled up into a ball, Matarl grabbed her by a tentacle and jabbed the prisoner under the chin with his blaster. He forced her to look at him, his eyes two black pits of hate.

"Enough of your lies!" he spat. "What did you do to my son, you harlot? Ship him off back to the home world? To have him raised by the same lowborn scum as you?"

He grinded the weapon painfully under her chin. Thalia grimaced against the abuse but remained stonily silent. Matarl hissed at his inability to provoke any sort of fear in his former victim. The Twi'lek decided another tactic was in order. He leaned in close again and whispered into her lobe.

"If you don't tell me what I want to know, I will strip you naked and plough you like a Bantha ploughs a field...just like before,"

Matarl gave her a sickening leer as he let his eyes traverse the tight outline of her clothing. Some people said you could rape someone with your eyes alone. If that was true, then what Matarl was doing certainly counted. Eventually his dark eyes settled back onto her face.

"Do you still remember how to swallow?"

Matarl left the rest unsaid. Despite the prospect of another rape, Thalia remained unfazed.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" she replied cooly, her face held high in rigid contempt for her captor.

"Try it and see what happens. You'll get no satisfaction from what I give you,"

The words were spoken with the utmost confidence. Matarl felt his choler rise.

_Whore__!_ _Whore mongering filth!_

Thalia was sucking out every inch of satisfaction he was supposed to get from this encounter. _He _should be the one mocking her not the other way around! He almost ended her right then and there, his bestial rage demanding him to take the life of this...this prey. Matarl could taste blood in the back of his mouth. He wanted to gouge her eyeballs out, to smell the coppery scent of blood as he tore out her throat...

Just as began Matarl began reaching out, a single cold voice jolted him out of his murderous haze.

_Stop_

Like an obedient mongrel who had just been slapped with a paper, Matarl flinched and found himself backing away. He didn't question the action, it was almost instinctual, to obey the command of the alpha in a pack. And Malleus was an alpha in every sense of the word. The Renatus appeared and looked down at the female Twi'lek. This time Thalia did cringe, the memory of her incarceration flooding back with the madman's proximity.

"Malleus. Whatever you're trying to do here. You'll fail, just like you've failed in the past. Only this time, Lucidae will send you screaming back to the Force,"

Despite her defiant posture, there was a slight tremor under her voice. Malleus looked down at his onetime victim with pitiless eyes.

"I require access to that door." The _Renatus_ pointed to the middle gate in the center of the domed cave. Unlike the other unremarkable passages, this door had a brightly glowing barrier protecting it. A panel at the side – a voice console of some sort - blinked red, waiting for some type of authorization code.

"You don't say," Thalia deadpanned, "Why don't you try and hit it with your fancy stick like you always do?"

"It is impervious to conventional means of entrance," Malleus said matter of factly, ignoring the Twi'lek's sarcasm. An unpleasant smile widened on his face. "That is why you will open it for me,"

Thalia gave him a sneer.

"Do you really think that's going to happen?"

"Yes, it has been foreseen. You're capitulation will be one more dagger to Lucidae's heart,"

The captive spat into the former Jedi's face. "Torture me, rape me or kill me Malleus." she hissed. "Nothing you do will make me betray Lucidae."

Matarl thought Malleus would be angry at the insult, but surprisingly he gave a rasping laugh.

"Little mortal." Malleus hissed softly. He bent down and stroked a bony finger against her cheek, making Thalia shiver. "I'm not going to torture you."

"Then you have lost. By lingering you have signed your death warrant. Do you think Aethon will take this invasion lying down? They will send reinforcements to purge your wretched existence."

"I know. I've been waiting for this family reunion for a long time,"

Thalia's expression became wary.

"Reunion...what are you talking about?"

As soon as she uttered the words, a loud series hisses drew their attention. Malleus remained still, completely unsurprised at the intrusion. Matarl whipped his head though, his hand going instinctively for his weapons. His eyes narrowed into venomous slits, and a feral grin spread on his lips.

"Well...isn't this just _perfect_,"

Across the room, T'shere eyes glowed a boiling mercury while Mysteel's shone an icy sapphire. Both females were glaring at him.

"Matarl, you traitorous bastard" T'shere hissed. "What have you done?"


	27. Chapter 27 The Reunion Part 1

_I know...exactly how this will end._

_-Malleus_

* * *

T'shere and Mysteel's shock at seeing their former comrade was quickly forgotten when they glanced down at the writhing form on the ground.

"Mother!" their voices were pitched and fearful, an instinctive outburst at seeing their foster parent in such a state. Thalia was bound from wrist to foot so tightly, it was like her body was being prepared for its tomb. Despite her fear, the Arkanian felt a hint of pride that their mother struggled valiantly against such oppression. Still, Thalia looked dismayed by their appearance.

"Mysteel! T'shere! Get out-mmphhh!" Her pleas were interrupted as Matarl slapped her on the cheek and gave her a nasty look.

"Keep your bloody mouth shut!" he hissed.

"Get your hands off her, you filthy bastard!" Angered, Mysteel approached her mother's captor with menacing steps, but then a chill wind rushed through them. T'shere blinked. One moment there was nothing, then a dark figure had manifested between the Mysteel and her target, like a death ward. Her sister gave gave a cry of fright and recoiled.

"You..." Mysteel croaked fearfully before cringing behind her sister.

"Malleus..." T'shere spat the word like a curse...which it was. The Arkanian stared at the corrupted thing known by so many damning words, she had lost count. Malleus stared back with milky eyes, a silent spectre that was neither angered or gladdened by their arrival. Somehow, it seemed he had been expecting them. Memories of her incarceration flooded back, images of men screaming and dying under the unimaginable tortures inflicted by this tyrant and his brood. Mysteel had been lucky, she had lost both parents to the Mandalorians and did not need to witness her loved ones become cannibals. Her father on the other hand...

T'shere shook her head brusquely. No, this was not the time for self loathing or recrimination. If she wanted to leave here alive, she would need all her wits about her. Taking a deep breath, the Arkanian focused her attention on the other man that deserved her ire.

"It was you. You were the one who breached the security grid, weren't you?" growled T'shere, every syllable tinged with malice. Matarl returned her cold stare, smiling like a viper. The Arkanian had recognized the Twi'lek immediately, despite the horrendous changes wrought onto his body. It was easy really. Simply looking at him brought back unpleasant memories, all those times when Matarl's lecherous eyes wandered when he thought she wasn't looking. During meetings, just passing by... Whatever the case, a tingle of revulsion would always creep up her spine and this time it was no different.

Exile had not been kind to the Twi'lek. While she had never been considered him handsome, Matarl did have a roguish personality that had beguiled some of the other females within the group earlier on, a lady's man so to speak. But he had always been ugly in the inside and his current appearance reflected that rotten inner core perfectly. Snake like veins criss crossed his grey clammy skin. He hunched more and seemed to have acquired some sort of twitch. T'shere could see his teeth had elongated into bloody points when he smiled.

The fool must have received one of Malleus' 'gifts'. He had always been foolhardy and brash, but even T'shere didn't think he would throw in his lot with the _Butcher_. Matarl didn't know it, probably none of them did, but he had cursed himself to an eventual existence of mindless savagery and servitude to an entity of pure malevolence. She should have felt pity for the decrepit creature, but pity was one emotion she no longer had capacity to feel. Pity was for the weak.

"You triggered the security failure and let these monsters in here, you treacherous, snivelling little coward,"

Even as she said the words, T'shere had to appreciate the irony of their predicament. Among all the recruits they had ever acquired, Matarl stood out as one of Aethon's best scouts, his espionage skills only second to Kynes herself. Those skills were only matched by his supreme arrogance and untrustworthiness, as proven by his checkered background and endless list of disciplinary charges back when he was in the army. In truth, T'shere had found the Rutian distasteful from the start, but with his technical abilities, Lucidae saw fit to give him a chance.

That proved to be a damning decision.

His true colors had come out one night on Taris, when he and some of his cronies had come back from one of their escapades smelling like cheap booze and cheaper sex. The sisters had been away on a mission of their own but Thalia had been in their infirmary tending to the wounded. That night, Matarl had brought his friends there and demanded to be 'attended' to. Thalia had refused on account of them being nothing more than piss drunk and that there were too many who needed actual medical attention. She had asked them to leave. In response, Matarl shot each of the wounded soldiers and said that her schedule had just opened.

Things had gotten ugly, and after a decidedly one sided fight, two of Matarl's mob had held Thalia down while the rest took turns having their way with her. She probably would have died if not for the fact that one of the wounded soldiers who wasn't quite dead had managed to crawl out of the infirmary and call for help.

The fallout had been disastrous. When T'shere had learnt of what transpired, she flew into a rage. The Arkanian personally hunted Matarl down within the slums until she had cornered him in a back alley. She remembered cutting off the offending part of his body and shoving it into his mouth and would have done more...but Lucidae had intervened, reigning her in.

A trial had been held with the Master of Aethon acting as judge. The crime was undisputed, and only the punishment had to be determined. T'shere urged for him to execute the criminal filth. Mysteel being the soft hearted fool she was had asked for exile. But surprisingly it was Thalia who tipped the deciding vote for mercy, saying she would never want an unarmed man to die purely for revenge. After hearing their cases, Lucidae decreed that the offenders _would_ be exiled. But because Matarl was the ring leader in this crime, Lucidae determined that he would receive the strictest censure. The Master had decreed he would use his vast array of connections to ensure Matarl never found legitimate work again...

The punishment had been severe but T'shere had not been satisfied. Anything less than death felt like a betrayal to the mother that had raised her and she warned that Matarl would never take his sentence lying down.

Sometimes, T'shere hated it when she was right.

In the end, this invasion had only been possible because Lucidae had granted the bastard mercy. Mercy...it was truly a useless quality.

_Lucidae...you bloody idiot. Your antiquated sense of honor has doomed us all._

"I should have killed you," T'shere hissed, pointing her lightsaber at the traitor. "When I had you cornered like a rat that night, I knew I should have cut your head off instead of your balls,"

"Nice to see you too T'shere," replied Matarl. His voice grated like parchment scratching on sandpaper. Somehow it still managed to convey the ingrained sense of superiority when someone held all the right cards. The Arkanian's breaths came more rapidly, as she fought to contain the volcano about to erupt in her chest. Matarl's reptilian eyes travelled to her companion.

"And Mysteel..." he crooned. "How I missed your beautiful face,"

T'shere saw Mysteel cringe reflexively at being addressed by the monster. Unlike her, the younger Twi'leks expression was one of anguish.

"Why?" she asked plaintively. "Why are you doing this? We _spared_ you. Lucidae gave you freedom!"

At her words, Matarl's expression twisted into one of hate.

"Freedom?" spat Matarl acidly. "You call his judgment freedom you stupid bitch? He might as well as swung the executioner's blade! You have no idea what I-"

"Enough." the _Butcher's_ words were spoken softly, but the weight of the threat was palpable. Matarl cowered beneath his new Master as if he had been slapped. Malleus stepped forward and observed him like he was observing a particularly fascinating boil under a microscope.

"Raise the wards. Go make sure we are not disturbed,"

Matarl responded like a mongrel bitch, growling and slinking into a corner. When his lackey had moved away, Malleus turned to address the arrivals, his baleful stare rooting them to the floor.

"Fifteen years. It has been fifteen years since we crossed paths. And time has not lessened the memory of Lucidae's transgressions,"

The deceptively soft voice carried an undercurrent of violence that spoke volumes of the man underneath. Her first instinct was to cringe like Mysteel, but T'shere forced herself to stare defiantly at the man who had plagued her dreams for as long as she could remember. She had already guessed he was here to avenge the damage Lucidae inflicted on their illicit operation. But why now? After staying in the shadows and avoiding contact with them, why would Malleus commit his forces in such a risky maneuver? Was it because of auction? The auction...

_Victus...I should have known Malleus would have taken his death as a slight. _

"So you've finally gathered enough courage to pull your head out from whatever hole you were hiding in for revenge. It took you long enough,"

T'shere sounded confident, but in truth, a hundred worms were writhing in her stomach.

"Revenge is sweet," Malleus admitted. "But it is a quality that must be tempered by reality."

He glanced momentarily to the back of the cave where an arrow headed door stood frozen in time, enveloped within a pale blanket of blue energy. T'shere felt her stomach do another back flip. Did Malleus know about…

"No, I have come to restore balance to the natural order, because fundamentally, the Force is about balance. And all living things adhere to its rules. Lucidae created a void when he took from me what I cherished the most. And now, I have come to fill it,"

Both females stiffened instinctively when Malleus raised a hand back at them, thinking he meant to unleash some sort of attack. For now though, he only pointed a bony finger.

"You have something of mine... in this hall of memory," continued Malleus calmly. "And you will return it to me,"

"And if we don't?"

In response, Malleus' lightsaber flared into existence and came to rest at the nape of Thalia's neck.

"_No_! Please, don't hurt her!" Mysteel shouted the words in alarm and instinctively moved to help her beloved mother but T'shere held her back. "Calm down," she whispered harshly,

"Let go! We can't leave her!" Mysteel snapped back, trying to shove her away. T'shere wrestled her back. "Hey, look at me!" The Twi'lek glared at her accusingly but her sister remained remarkably calm.

"You're not helping the situation." T'shere admonished. Then in a softer tone she said

"Don't you think I want to save her too? But we can't show weakness. Not right now,"

Mysteel registered the words and reluctantly stopped struggling. A horrible silence descended upon the cave as the standoff continued. Malleus looked at them with expressionless eyes, clearly waiting for them to make the next move. Conflicted, T'shere met her mothers gaze for a brief moment. When Thalia gave her the slightest shake of her head, the Arkanian knew what must be done.

"We knew..." the Arkanian said slowly, "...that a day might come when we had to put our lives on the line. Each of us swore an oath to die for this group. An oath to serve Lucidae and to protect the interests of the Republic...

T'shere turned to her teary eyed sister.

"...no matter what the cost."

Mysteel looked horrified. She opened her mouth to protest until she heard Thalia call out her name. Mysteel saw her mother staring with a knowing look. _Remember your duty _Her eyes seemed to say. After a few seconds, Mysteel nodded back, despite the tears streaking down her beautiful face. T'shere smiled grimly. Mysteel was known as the playful one, the sister who took nothing seriously. But when it came down to it, she was every bit as committed to her duty as anyone else. It was one of the many reasons T'shere loved her. She turned to look defiantly at their captor whose face betrayed nothing.

"What I'm trying to say Malleus, is you might as well go bugger yourself with a hot poker because we will never serve your agenda,"

Despite the gut wrenching pain in her stomach at the thought of consigning their mother to death, T'shere forced herself to smile. _Show no fear. _Men like Malleus could smell it like a hound smells blood. If he thought for a moment that she had doubts…Another dread silence descended upon the chamber, more oppressive than any fog could be. It stretched on painfully as Malleus looked at them with his reptile stare.

"You think your confidence hides your fear," He said eventually. "It doesn't. I can smell the stink of it on you. All of you."

"We're not afraid of you," she retorted. Mysteel wisely said nothing.

"You do." Malleus said calmly. "I see the shades of your humors like the paint on a canvas." He pointed to the Arkanian. "Your choleric ire is a cage of iron and rage used to conceal your innermost fears. But it is a brittle fortress that will break before it bends."

That hit too close to the mark. "I know no fear. That emotion has been purged from me," said T'shere coldly, hoping to convince herself it was true. Malleus ignored her boast and turned to Mysteel, who was staring just below his eye level.

"And you. You choose to laugh in the face of adversity. Yet behind all your bravado, you are nothing but copper. Pretty perhaps, but worth nothing at the end. You will fail everyone that you ever cared for"

To T'shere's dismay, Twi'lek looked away shamefully. Finally, he gave Thalia a measured look. "And you, mother of many faces"

Malleus's pupils eyes seemed to bore through her but Thalia kept her stony countenance, betraying nothing with her poker face.

"This is your last chance mortal. We stand at the precept where the strands of fate coalesce. You have a chance to choose a better outcome here, for you and your 'children'. Acquiesce to my request and you will spared the most horrible fate.'

Thalia continued to stare at him, her answer plain to see. Malleus did not seemed surprised by her refusal.

"So it seems..." He said slowly, turning back to T'shere "I will have to put all your oaths to the test,"

He pushed Thalia behind him, her lithe form skidding across the smooth marble floor. The Twi'lek came to rest in the corner of the domed cave, several meters from her other gaoler. With his prisoner out of immediate harm, Malleus began circling the remaining two females with menacing steps. T'shere crouched down into a fighting stance, positioning her lightsaber in a defensive stance. She glanced at Mysteel who had turned alarmingly pale at the prospect of the coming conflict.

"We can't...We can't win..." whispered Mysteel hoarsely. Her eyes had a look of dread that mirrored her own inner memories of incarceration. "Lucidae-"

"Lucidae isn't here," hissed T'shere. "But we are."

Mysteel looked torn. She clearly didn't want to leave her mother to such a fate, but the prospect of facing her inner demons...

"Mysteel," T'shere used her best big sister voice. She took her sibling a few steps back so Malleus couldn't hear. "You can't keep hiding behind our Master's robes like a little girl. He said that someday, you would be tested. And that day has come,"

"But...I-I'm scared," she admitted, almost too quiet to hear.

T'shere gave her arm a squeeze and spoke in a lighter tone.

"Sis, we were taught by a man who could defeat Vrook, Dorak, Vandar and sod knows who else with his left hand while taking a piss with his right. Do you really think we should be scared of this _scarecrow_?"

That earned her a small smile. "…No."

"Exactly, it's like Lucidae always says. Divided we fall. United, no force in the galaxy can stand before us."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure he was talking about-"

"Whatever. I don't listen to half of what he says anyways. The point is, if we work together, we can do this. Are you with me?"

Mysteel stared at her for a long moment, her sapphire eyes glimmering in the pale light like stars. Then slowly, she brought one hand to rest on the hilt of her lightsaber. That was all the assurance she needed. Smiling, T'shere turned back to the _Renatus_,

"Malleus," she said loudly and with cold formality. "On behalf of Lucidae, Lord Commander of Aethon and protector of the Republic I name you traitor. Your crimes against the galaxy and the Order have condemned you to death. Expect no mercy, for I have none to give,"

There was another strained quiet, the only sound being the low thrum of their lightsabers. Then Malleus made a curious noise, like two gears grinding together. It took a while before T'shere realized he was actually _laughing_.

"Little bird," he rasped "You presume to flaunt your 'rules' to me? In the coldness of the void beyond the Outer Rim, your petty words mean less than nothing. Out here, all laws cease to exist. And soon, the institutions that birthed them will fade to dust."

He pointed at one of the venerable Jedi statues, the silent guardians who observed their impromptu meeting with cold indifference. "The time of the Republic and Jedi Order are coming to an end. Like a guttering flame, it's last embers are burning to oblivion,"

"The Republic will never die!" Somewhere, Mysteel had found enough courage to defy her accuser. "Not when there are people of honour like Lucidae exist to defend it."

"It will," promised Malleus with perfect certainty. "I have looked into the murky veil, through the infinite gate of possibilities that you call the future. The strands are often fickle and misleading, but this truth cannot be denied. In my dreams the warriors of the false Order are culled and their monuments burned to ash. Warriors clad in iron plunge their talons into their rotting, bloated carcasses while dark spectres peck at their innards until nothing remains. After the black tide passes, the Republic will cease to exist."

"The only thing that will end is your wretched existence," retorted T'shere. "The Republic has endured for millennia. It might not be the perfect, but it home to thousands of civilizations and cultures. Countless souls who strive to work through all the galaxy's hardships so they may know a better future. You cannot destroy the ideals in which the Republic and Jedi Order were built on,"

Malleus gave a sigh that whistled out through his ruined nose. "Has there ever been slaves like you that loved the cage they were shackled in? There is no better future. The foundations of the Republic and Order died the day its inherent hypocrisy was revealed to the Galaxy."

T'shere felt her choler rising at Malleus' hypocrisy. "That only happened because you betrayed the Order, you freak of nature," she hissed.

Malleus' seemed surprised by her accusation.

"You think me unnatural? You, who follows a man that traps himself in rules and dead tradition, protecting a crumbling Order that has rejected them? An Order that keeps the galaxy on the edge of ruin with the petty games they play? There is nothing more unnatural than the stagnation that permeates the realm you claim to defend."

This time, it was T'shere who laughed.

"Look at you," she said, pointing at his bloated and corrupted form. "Are you truly so blind to how far you have fallen from grace? You followed a madman into Exile, saturating yourself within the gene pool of the Sith to become an mockery of life itself."

She spat in disgust. "You are truly a disgrace to the light side of the Force and the natural order of things."

Malleus crowed at her attempt at an insult, bilous liquid leaking out the ragged hole where part of his nose used to be. "Words. Words are wind, as hallow as your preconceptions of absolutes. Light side. Dark side. Pfahh. There is only one difference between a Jedi and a Sith. Both crave power and control, but the Jedi are less honest about it."

He walked up to one of the statues that Matarl had knocked over during their firefight, resting one foot on top of the broken head.

"Let me tell you what really matters in this galaxy. Victory. Victory is the definition of our lives. You win and you live. Die, and you might as well have never existed at all."

As if to accentuate his point, Malleus casually put his foot through the statue, crushing the head into powder. T'shere knew strength he possessed had to be immense to perform such a feat. Still, she refused to be cowed.

"I have waited a long time for this day Malleus," T'shere admitted in a low voice. She began slashing the air in slow circular movements, loosening her muscles and trying to find her centre of focus. Rage simmered just beneath the boiling point, pumping adrenaline into her bloodstream and heightening her senses. In the corner of her eye, Mysteel crept forward discreetly to flank Malleus' position. "Ever since I started training, I have dreamt of the day I could avenge the fallen. With every slash of my light saber I have carved a path of death, hoping to find you at the end,"

The Renatus shook his head, almost sadly.

"You want revenge...for being part of our grand vision. It is only natural I suppose. Mortals like you have so much to lose. An errant shift in the sands of destiny and everything you have fought for will crumble to dust." He spread his arms wide. "Well here I am little mortal. Show me what passes for strength among your misbegotten kind. Every step you take will bring my Cult closer to our goal. It is inevitable."

This time it was Mysteel who spoke.

"You talk like you've already won Malleus, but you haven't beaten us yet. The future is unwritten. What we do here and now will determine our fates."

Malleus turned to stare at her with reptile eyes.

"You know nothing. The strands of destiny churns ever forward into a greater cause, like a river flowing into the sea. Sometimes that river can break off into smaller streams, but in the end they all form back to its original path. The intricate tapestry of our fates were broken on that fateful day, when Lucidae chose to intervene in our great works. Since that day, I have worked tirelessly to locate the broken strands, fixing the ripple effects that the traitor inflicted into the primordial weave of destiny. And today, I have returned us to the true course that cannot be changed. So believe me when I say, I know..._exactly_ how this will end,"

"Fine words," said T'shere. She gave Mysteel a look to see if she was ready and she returned the briefest of nods. "Let me make it your epitaph,"

And with that the two sisters attacked.

* * *

Arctet's ears perked up at the distinctive thrum of lightsabers clashing. It appeared that whatever was happening in the vault had turned violent, not that it should have come as a surprise anymore. Trouble seemed to be raining down on them recently.

He sat up straighter within the little alcove that he occupied, straining to hear the telltale thrum of weapons clashing. Like any time they were in danger, T'shere had told them to hide here for the time being while they checked what lay ahead.

Arctet briefly thought of looking in on the commotion but the commander's orders had been very explicit. _Don't get caught. _The words were spoken to him, but he was under no illusion who T'shere was really concerned about. The young scout looked ruefully at his charge, who was peeking out of the alcove with him. She could escape if she really wanted to. After months of trying to play babysitter, the child still managed to escape seemingly on a whim. Arctet just didn't know how she did it. One moment she would be sitting idly by, the next she was gone. Short of tying and bolting her down to a chair, Arctet had no way to restrain her.

"Fun Bags and Tails are fighting again," said the child suddenly. "Is mother really in trouble?"

"They're just clearing the path. Don't worry, they'll be fine."

"But I want to go see!"

"Shhhhh," Arctet soothed, patting her head. "Fun-ah your sister will get angry again if you don't behave," The Twi'lek grumbled under her breath.

Despite all the heart attacks she had given him over this mission, he had to admire her talents. With her sneakiness and innate grasp of technology, she had the potential to be as great as a scoundrel as her mother. Thalia was rightfully proud of her. He just hoped he would be around long enough to see it happen. And that meant keeping her safe, no matter what the cost.

* * *

The pair traveled in hushed silence, with Kynes leading Revan through a seemingly endless network of caverns. Unlike the tunnels leading to Lucidae's inner labs, these caverns were naturally formed. Stalactites hung ominously from the ceiling, forming spearheads that forced the Jedi to duck from time to time during their journey. Despite the absence of any distinctive landmarks, the sniper seemed to know the network like the back of her hand.

Aside from informing him that the defence grid was essentially disabled and they were on their own, the sniper had not given the Jedi a second glance. From time to time, they came across a soldier's desecrated body or a dismantled droid. Revan briefly bent down to examine them and discovered that they had all been killed by savage strikes from a lightsaber. But these bodies didn't just have burn marks, they had been sheared straight through from neck to torso. Whoever did this possessed phenomenal strength, probably close to that of a Rancor. Kynes barely glanced at these casualties, but Revan could see a tightness in the corners of the sniper's lips, that told him she was worried.

After they had traveled ten minutes into the vast cave network, the tunnel grew larger until the pair found themselves in a natural cavern. The chamber had eroded to form a rough semi sphere with small alcoves dotting the circumference. Each alcove contained a droid, entombed within its miniature crypt. The center of the room was bisected with a glowing blue energy barrier, effectively cutting off their route. Revan surmised they had reached some sort of security checkpoint.

When they approached the obstacle, Kynes frowned. "This shield shouldn't be active,"

"Someone must have gotten the grid back online ," Revan surmised

"Maybe," She looked wary then, raising her pistol and scanning their surroundings. Without warning, a crimson lance shot out from an upward trajectory, straight for her head. Revan reacted with pre natural speed, deflecting the first, second and third beams in consecutive order, while shoving her behind a stalagmite.

He scattered as well, diving behind similar cover before the chamber was saturated with blaster fire. The Jedi pressed his body close to the rock, risking a look. He realized the shots had come from strategically concealed turrets, hiding among the stalactites. Red targeting lasers appeared around the terrain, looking for any hostile movement. Worse, the metal guardians began to rise from their inanimate slumber, moving inexorably to their position. Blaster fire lit the chamber in ominous shades of red as the droids unleashed their payload at the two intruders. Every shot reduced rock and rubble into vapour. Soon it would be them.

As devastation rained upon them, Kynes was calmly consulting her wrist pad. Revan gave her a pointed look.

"Someone's rigged the security system's parameters. Everyone's considered a hostile to them now," Kynes stated without irony. Revan grimaced as one of the shots scuffed his robes.

"Can't you override the hack and shut it down?"

She tapped a few keys on her console.

"No, my administrator privileges have been revoked. I've been locked out of every critical system,"

"Tell me that's what passes as a joke for you,"

"This isn't a hack job," she retorted, a trace of irritation surfacing in her voice. Perhaps angered by Revan's disapproval, the sniper rose in one fluid motion and fired a single shot that punched through one of the droid's faceplate. It collapsed without ceremony, but three others had already taken up its place, continuing their furious barrage. She fired another triplet of shots that disabled two of the ceiling turrets before crouching back down into cover. Another trail of red lances struck overhead and destroying part of her cover. Rubble crumbled onto her head as the sniper mechanically ejected an empty cartridge and slammed in a new one.

"Someone had to have existing knowledge of the protocols. They'd need to be know the infrastructure..."

She broke off with a curse as a particularly nasty shot punched through a thin layer of rock, narrowly missing her head.

The droids began massing together into one gigantic spearhead. Scowling, the Jedi looked around, trying to find some advantage he could exploit. His eyes narrowed when he looked up and an idea came to mind. Focusing on the stalactites below their enemies, Revan stretched out a hand and the ceiling started to rumble and crack. When he felt he had enough purchase, the Jedi made a violent gesture and the rocky protrusions broke off, hurling themselves on top of their unsuspecting victims. A great crack echoed across the tunnels as the droids were crushed under several tones of rock. When the dust settled, nothing remained of their enemy except for the odd twitching limb. A strange lull descended upon the pair and he turned back to the sniper, with a grim caste to his eyes.

"Tell me then. Do you know anyone who would have such technical expertise and be willing to go to such extremes to kill all of you?"

Kynes gave him a cold look but otherwise didn't answer. Instead she strode out from her cover and began the task of manually disabling the shield.

* * *

Malleus was known by many names throughout his three millennium of existence. He was the _Renatus_ to his followers, the _Butcher_ to some of his victims the _Corrupter of Souls _to others_._ And as the ancient Jedi descended upon his targets with the rage and fury gene bred into his bones, Matarl could see how he had taken his latest accolade.

The man was in every sense of the word, a cancer, destroying _everything _that he touched. His corrosive influence could manifest both subtly and with gory realism. In this case it was the latter. Malleus lightsaber seemed to rip the fabric of space itself as it shrieked through the air, tearing out gouges from the marble floor with each savage swing. The warrior was fury made manifest, every sweeping attack strong enough to obliterate a fair sized tank. Normally, this display of martial strength should have been more than enough to wipe any enemy from the face of existence. So it came as an unpleasant surprise to Matarl that Malleus wasn't _winning_.

Mysteel and T'shere were matching him strike for strike, their elaborate dance a beauty to behold. The sisters in fought in unison, their movements in perfect harmony with each other. While Lucidae had trained them to fight together, their synchronicity was born from a natural affinity that had developed since they were children. They were a contrast of styles, that meshed into one cohesive ballet of parries, strikes and ripostes.

T'shere's dance was a series of twists and pirouettes as her lightsaber created an impenetrable golden barrier, deflecting each of Malleus' savage attacks before they could hit their target. She willingly kept herself in his line of sight, baiting the fallen Jedi with most of his attention. Mysteel's dance by contrast were more like a fish, using her natural acrobatic abilities to dart to and fro. Her movements kept Malleus flanked and when an opportune moment presented herself, she would dive in like a bee to a deliver stinging thrust. By the time Malleus could react, Mysteel had already flitted away to attack from another angle. Together, they presented a united front to stem the tide, the Arkanian a solid rock and the Twi'lek a storm of swords. Despite his hatred for the pair, Matarl had to admit a begrudging respect for them. Their teamwork was effectively foiling whatever advantage Malleus had in terms of individual strength.

As Matarl watched the climatic battle unfold, T'shere caught one of Malleus murderous thrusts in a clockwise slash of her double edged blade, forcing it into the ground. Malleus was momentarily off balance and that was when Mysteel pounced, taking the opening her sister left to weave in under Malleus' guard for a hit. Her lightsaber tore a ragged hole in his abdomen and drew a grunt of pain. Malleus counter swung in a murderous arc, but the two females darted away like two flies off a wall.

They came at Malleus again, determined to drive up the tempo. Mysteel jumped ahead and slashed at Malleus guard before ducking under from his overhand strike. T'shere flanked from behind and tried to cut out from under his knees but a well positioned blade deprived her of the wound. Malleus counter slashed at the Arkanian just before twisting to deflect another thrust from the Twi'lek-

It was too much for him. Matarl soon lost track of the individual parries and strikes. All he knew was that the dance became faster and faster, the blades rapping three-four then five times a second in rapid succession, his eyes unable to process the information as quickly as it happened. To him, their movements simply congealed into one indistinctive blur, a canvas streaked with splatters of black, silver and gold. It was beautiful, it was unbelievable, but most importantly it was deadly. Each dancer hung in a precarious edge, where one tilt of the pendulum of fate could swing for their demise. One misstep, one trip...

The spell was broken suddenly when T'shere caught Malleus' downstroke into a clinch, exposing his vulnerable neck. Mysteel, sensing a critical opening was slashing with both hands even as her sister provided the opening. Matarl yelled out in alarm. Her lightsaber would have opened him from jugular to brainstem...if he stood to receive it.

Malleus shifted his lightsaber just enough so the two pronged attack caught the tip and bottom of his blade and suddenly, the weapons gridlocked. The two females tried to push their weight behind the lightsabers and force their way through, but Malleus was an immovable object. Hundreds of tiny sparks flew wildly, burning T'shere and Mysteel's sweat stained skin as they gritted their teeth and tried to break the deadlock. If only one of them could push a centimeter through...

As the females struggled, Malleus leaned in so their faces were practically touching. The _Renatus_ smiled at them.

"When I see Lucidae next, I will tell him both of you tried your best,"

The sister's expressions went from determined to horrified when they realized Malleus had been toying with them.

Without warning, his hand shot out catching Mysteel in the chest. The Twi'lek was suddenly airborne, shrieking through midair to land into a rack of cups and exotic tableware. A orchestra of cracking pottery greeted her plummeting form.

Distracted by her sister's flight, T'shere was caught off guard as Malleus disengaged abruptly and she stumbled forward. The _Renatus_ snatched her by the arm before she could recover and he used her forward momentum to fling the Arkanian across the air like she weighed nothing more than a paperweight. T'shere found herself crashing against the wall, her body splintering the rock into a spidery crater with the force of her body. She slumped to the ground dazed and coughing blood.

Mysteel crawled to her feet on wobbly legs. She looked up rubbing her head to see the spectre of death approaching her with serpentine grace. The Twi'lek just managed to dodge to her left as Malleus' lightsaber shrieked down and split the floor in a linear shockwave. Pivoting smoothly, Mysteel threw a left hook at Malleus face, her hidden stiletto blade hissing to life. The sneak attack got nowhere near her target. Malleus caught her wrist in mid-flight and hauled her off the ground effortlessly.

"Trickery?," he hissed. "Is this the honour your Master taught you little mortal?"

Mysteel squirmed, trying to slip free but Malleus held her in a unbreakable vice. He tightened his grip on her wrist and her gauntlet sparked and fizzled as it malfunctioned. Malleus continued to apply pressure and Mysteel shrieked in pain as she felt her bones break under the unwavering grip.

Before Malleus could reduce Mysteel's hand into pulp, a large grey statue collided into Malleus back, shattering against his bony frame. The _Renatus_ staggered, distracted. He dropped his unfortunate victim and turned to see T'shere across the room breathing heavily, another statue floating a few meters in the air in front of her.

"Get away from her, you bastard," she hissed.

Growling, Malleus began stalking back to his first victim.

Grimacing in pain, T'shere willed her two hundred pound missile up and catapulted it into her enemy. Malleus swept the pathetic projectile aside with a backhand, the force of his strike reducing the priceless artifact into so much rubble. Malleus looked up to meet a series of smaller projectiles screaming forward, knives, vases, broken glass...T'shere spared nothing. She was literally throwing the kitchen sink at him.

Malleus didn't even bother to protect himself. The hail of devastation broke against him like a wave breaking against a dam and the _Renatus_ came on with deadly promise. He snatched the last missile (a Mandalorian war knife) from the air, flipped it on its handle and flung it back at the assailant. The blade _thunked_ into the meaty part of her thigh and T'shere screamed in pain, collapsing to one knee. With a trembling hand, she tried to snatch the weapon free but it was lodged as into her like a nail hammered to a board.

A shadow loomed over her.

T'shere tried to bring her lightsaber up and defend herself, but Malleus swept her weapon across the room with a casual flick of his weapon. He grabbed the defenceless Arkanian by the neck and hauled her up. T'shere's blistering curses were rendered into incomprehensible gurglings as she clawed desperately at the horrendous pressure around her neck. With a growl, Malleus crushed her against the wall, into the same crater she made she during her first dalliance against gravity. There was a sickening thud, and the wall splintered even more.

T'shere continued to thrash.

Matarl watch with tears of joy as Malleus crushed her against the unyielding rock again and again. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mysteel crying out in helpless rage and pain, cursing Malleus and begging him to stop at the same time. Thalia was doing the same thing but Malleus did not heed their calls. He repeated the brutal hammering motion until the Arkanian's body became as limp as a wobbly cock. When he was sure that the Arkanian had no more fight in her, he leaned in close to her twitching form.

"The Force is about balance." Rasped Malleus. Even in defeat, T'shere stared at him defiantly with bloodshot eyes. Her lips moved in wordless profanity but the Arkanian had no air to give voice to them. Malleus' grip tightened around the Arkanian's neck and she started choking, her bones threatening to crack at any moment.

"You took Victus from me, my strong right hand."

Malleus rictus grin widened.

"Blood demands blood,"

Everyone saw the murderous intent in his eyes. _"Nooooo!" _Thalia and Mysteel shrieked, but it was too late.

The _Butcher's_ bloodied and diamond hard claws clenched, then plunged itself deep into his victim's abdomen. T'shere's expression twisted into one of inhuman anguish. She shrieked in pain only for a split second before her cries degenerated into an incoherent gurgle, blood gushing out of her mouth like a fountain. Malleus twisted savagely and her body spasmed, nerveless fingers twitching uncontrollably as T'shere's brain lost communication with the rest of her body. Mysteel and Thalia continued to scream in wordless rage. It seemed like an eternity before the Arkanian's eyes rolled into the back of her skull and she grew still.

Slowly, Malleus withdrew his offending appendage with an audible _slchluck _and tossed his latest victim in front of Matarl. The body came to rest with a splat, smearing the ground with a trail of her blood. Between the female's screaming and weeping, Matarl couldn't hear himself think. But he did hear one thing though. It was the sound of his own laughter.

It was the sound of vindication.


	28. Chapter 28 The Reunion Part 2

_Your wounds will heal. But this one...this one will always fester._

_-Matarl_

* * *

The shriek echoed down the forlorn caves like a death knell. Arctet jumped like a startled rodent and cracked his skull on the roof of his small cubby hole. Half dazed, he fumbled for his weapon and waved it wildly like a idiot before common sense reasserted itself. The noise was hundreds of meters away, nowhere close to him. Still clutching his chest, he realized the voices sounded familiar. It almost sounded like...

_Mysteel…and Thalia?_

"Oh no," Arctet whispered as he realized that something horrible must have happened. The terror of that fact was nothing compared to the next discovery.

Thalia's daughter was gone again.

Arctet looked around frantically until he saw the diminutive form scampering into the distance, towards the source of the scream.

"Wait, come back!"

Cursing himself for his carelessness, the young scout scrambled out of the alcove and gave chase.

* * *

Thalia stared in horror at the sight of her lifeless daughter's body. T'shere was so close that her blood pooled around the Twi'lek and soaked her clothing.

"T'shere...No..._Noooo!_"

Fury and pain gave her renewed strength. The Twi'lek thrashed fiercely against her bindings, desperate to break free. Nanofibre wire bit deep into her soft flesh and drew blood but Matarl had been very thorough and the ropes remained secure. When it became clear she couldn't break them, Thalia half dragged, half flopped her way towards her fallen child. Matarl smiled at her distress, but otherwise did not interfere.

Mysteel's reaction was no less restrained. After watching T'shere collapse, the Twi'lek screamed in pure agony, the sound reflecting the amount of loss only a sibling could feel for another. Pain gave way to rage and her wounded hand seemed a distant thing. She forced herself up and charge at the vile creature that had violated her beloved sister.

"I'll kill you, you bastard! I swear I'll-"

"Silence,"

Malleus spared only the fleetest glance at the charging female but Mysteel stumbled again and grabbed her hand in agony, renewed waves of pain searing up her injured appendage. As Mysteel lay incapacitated, one of the large statues wobbled and collapsed on top of her writhing form. She shrieked as the stone statue came crashing down, all three hundred pounds of it. There was a sickening thud and when the dust settled, Mysteel face was inches from a stern mask of granite that was uncompromising in its weight and disapproval.

"Ngghghhh!" The Twi'lek tried to wriggle free, but between the weight and her injuries, Mysteel found she did not have the strength. She slumped with tears of defeat, helpless to stop the black tide of despair.

Having dealt with the nuisance, the Renatus walked back slowly to stand in front of Thalia who had finally reached T'shere. All the defiance seemed to have leaked out of her as surely as the lifeblood of her volatile daughter. The Rutian's eyes were stained as red as the marble floor and her breath came in shallow gasps.

"Damn you Malleus," Thalia trembled, blinking back tears. She had managed to prop herself against T'shere's body, reaching out to stroke her daughter's bloodied cheek. Death seemed to have wiped the torment from the Arkanian's features. She seemed almost at peace. It was no consolation to her mother though. She put her head on T'shere shoulder, weeping silently.

"This is your doing mortal. I warned you about the darker path."

Malleus shook his head in disgust at Thalia's pathetic display of affection.

"Victus knew you were the stubborn one…but he also said you were pragmatic. Clearly your time with Lucidae has diminished your sense of self preservation."

Thalia didn't seem to hear the words. She continued to cry on her precious child's shoulder, crying for the fierce spark that had been so cruelly snuffed out before its time.

"Damn you..."

As she continued to sob, Matarl gave Thalia a look that was almost pitying. From the cold recesses of his heart, he felt something close to sadness touch him…Was it empathy? Maybe, but it was a dim sensation. Years of hate and bitterness had numbed him as surely as all the stimulants he had ingested during that time.

_I've wanted this for so long…I won't let pity ruin the feeling._

As he stood there analyzing his thoughts, Matarl realized that Malleus was looking at him intently. The Twi'lek suddenly remembered why they were here in the first place. His revenge was secondary to whatever Malleus coveted in this sanctum.

He knelt down at the weeping woman.

"Stop stalling Thalia." Matarl said brusquely. "As cathartic as it was to see that bitch die, you're wasting our time."

He pointed to the glowing blue door that Malleus had referred to earlier.

"Whatever Malleus wants here, he'll get eventually. So be a good whore and open the door for us."

The weeping stopped. Slowly, very slowly Thalia raised her head, a look of pure loathing on her face. When they were at eye level Thalia spat, striking Matarl full in the face with bloody phlegm.

"Never," she hissed, "I will never help you, you sick twisted bastard"

An awful silence descended upon the cold, clammy cave. Matarl's face became expressionless, like a porcelain mask. With elaborate slowness, he wiped the offensive sludge off his head and stood up. Then he calmly walked up to where Mysteel was trapped, making an effort to punctuate every footsteps.

He unholstered his marksman's pistol. Thalia's face stiffened.

"What are you doing? Get away from her."

Matarl ignored the plea. With cold blooded efficiency, he shot Mysteel's exposed thigh. She screamed in renewed agony as a ripe burn mark blossomed on her injured leg.

"Stop! Stop hurting her!,"

On her plea, Matarl turned back to Thalia, his face twisted with furious menace. In a low voice, he said.

"If you don't start cooperating, I'll kill your golden bitch. Maybe I'll even have my way with her. And I won't do it in any particular order."

"D-Don't listen to him," Mysteel croaked between gritted teeth. "We can't betray Lucidae-"

_"Keep your bloody mouth shut!" _Matarl roared. In a fit of petty rage, he stomped on her injured hand. There was a sickening crunch and Mysteel's screams intensified.

"_Stop! Just stop it!"_ Thalia shrilled.

As the poor Twi'lek writhed in pain, Matarl turned his head fractionally to stare at the desperate mother.

"I'm done with your bullshit Thalia. You either help us or I start killing. It's just that simple."

He returned his leering glare at his immediate hostage.

"Will you let another one die for your pettiness?"

"Gnnhk, the oath mother..." groaned Myteel. Despite the horrendous pain, the Twi'lek still clung onto consciousness .

"remember the oath...nothing else matters."

For an awful moment, it seemed that Thalia would break under the stress of seeing her own daughter tortured to death. But then she remembered what was at stake and her heart turned to lead.

"Yes. I would let her die."

"...What?"

Matarl looked into her eyes and was genuinely taken back. She really wasn't bluffing. Yet throughout their acquaintance, Matarl knew that Thalia had cherished her daughters above all else. But now, she was willing to trade one for whatever secrets hid behind that door...

"I know the magnitude of what Malleus seeks. And I'd rather see me and my daughter dead then to let him unleash the horrors Lucidae protects the galaxy from so zealously."

She turned away from Matarl and looked at Malleus.

"Just kill us now and be done with it. Mysteel and I are ready to die for the sake of our promises to him"

For the first time since he arrived, Matarl wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He could kill them, but there would be no fear in their eyes during the execution, no satisfaction. Frustrated, he gave Malleus an angry look.

"What now? We don't have enough time to break her."

A note of accusation crept into his voice. Despite the pleasure of demeaning Thalia, Matarl wasn't going to die for this haphazard raid. And even with Malleus' 'distractions' he had little doubt that Lucidae would make short work of them in due time. Then he would come for them…it was not a prospect he wanted to revisit.

Malleus seemed unconcerned by this setback. He knelt down to look at Thalia and gave her an unpleasant smile.

"I remember swearing oaths too. They are paper shields used to erase all doubt from one's actions, even to the point of foolishness…"

He tapped her shoulder, causing the prisoner to flinch back.

"Yet I see the flaw in your armor. You are willing to let a person die as long as they are prepared to…but what about someone who isn't?"

Thalia eyes narrowed suspiciously. "We'll never know since we are the only ones here,"

"No…we are not," said Malleus, looking up expectantly.

As soon as Malleus said the words, Matarl became aware of another sound. A wailing. It was faint at first, but he could definitely make it out. It seemed that the sisters had not come alone. Thalia seemed to hear it too, because her expression gradually turned from suspicion to dread.

"No..._No_!"

At Thalia's horrified expression, Malleus gave her a withering smile.

"I told you mortal. I told you I knew exactly how this was going to end."

Thalia renewed her efforts to free herself, repeating the word 'no' all the while. Matarl was confused by her sudden distress. Whoever was coming must have been very important to her. He gave Malleus a curious look.

"Matarl...you said you lost a son, didn't you?"

"Yes..." said Matarl uneasily, wondering why at all times, he was bringing the topic up now.

"Well, consider what happens next my gift to you,"

Matarl's hideous features twisted in confusion. _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ Another sound came to his attention. There seemed to be some sort of scuffling outside the chamber. Matarl glanced at the door warily, wondering what enemies were approaching.

"No, come back!"

A moment later, a tiny form bounded around the corner and into the cave. It was a young Rutian, a child really, no older than two or three. The little girl came scampering across the room, heedless of the dangerous figure standing over her mother. The child repeated one word over and over again.

"Mother!"

A younger man appeared at the doorway, chasing after the girl. When he saw the inhabitants of the room, he gasped and froze on the spot. Mysteel saw the scene unfolding before her and her face twisted with the same kind of dread Thalia showed as well.

"Arctet! Get her!" Mysteel yelled.

The word's seemed to galvanize the man. After a moment's hesitation, he bolted for the child again, hoping to grab her before she could fall into the enemy's clutches. Matarl sneered and shot him in the leg.

"Arrrghhh!"

The younger man howled in agony and fell to the floor, flopping like a fish before passing out. Mysteel screamed in frustrated rage.

Thalia cried out for the child to stay away but she came running on, heedless of the apparent danger. It was the easiest thing in the world for Matarl to grab the infant by the back of her clothing. The child kicked and screamed but to no avail. He stared at the little rascal in wonder.

"What the hell is this?" Matarl muttered to himself, bringing a hand up to stop her biting.

"_Don't touch her!"_

Matarl glanced back at Thalia, who had gone pale with fright. He turned back to his latest prize, full of curiosity. The child had called her mother. Had Thalia adopted another lost waif? No wait...the eyes. Matarl noticed the child had the same dark, curious eyes as Thalia. And the freckles...the dimpled cheeks... The older Twi'lek's eyes widened as he quickly worked out the child's age.

"Is...is that?"

As the look of revelation slowly dawned upon Matarl, Thalia's eyes looked imploringly at him.

"Please...whatever you do... Don't hurt my flesh and blood... "

Matarl smiled at her choice of words.

"You mean _our_ flesh and blood,"

Thalia hung her head. She didn't say yes but her actions spoke larger than words. Matarl laughed. This was just to sweet.

"Why Thalia, you naughty girl...you should have told me we had made something so...beautiful."

His expression grew cold as he pointed his weapon at the temple of the child's head.

"What. A. Waste."

The threat made the little Rutian cry. "_Mooootherrr!" _she shrilled between sobs. Thalia finally lost all pretense of defiance.

"Please Matarl, don't kill her," she pleaded. "Whatever feud you have is with me and me alone,"

She reached out her hands plaintively, like a beggar in the streets. The sight of the slut begging was almost too good to be true. Matarl let himself bask in the sensation of superiority, of knowing that he had her completely within her control again. Tightening the grip on his tiny prisoner, he said.

"Open the bloody vault, Thalia. Or I will blow your precious daughter's brains out all over this pristine floor. You don't want Mysteel to see that do you? I hear it's the kind of thing that will scar people for life."

"I can't. I-I don't know how…"

Thalia said it too quickly, revealing it for the falsehood that it was. Matarl sneered.

"You used to be a lot better at lying,"

Thalia said nothing, but her eyes darted back and forth between him and Mysteel prone form. "Please...don't help them," She begged.

Seeing her reluctance, Matarl jabbed the muzzle of his pistol harder into her prisoner's temple and unclicked the hammer. The little child gave another cry of pain.

"_No!_" Thalia shrieked, reaching out. "_Stop!_"

"_Open the bloody door_!" the monster bellowed.

The mother's eyes were red with tears, torn between her duty and the lives of her daughters. For the first time in her life, Thalia was frozen with indecision. In this unwinnable scenario, her wiles counted for nothing. She remained silent, as if hoping that her inaction could stop the inevitable.

"Open the door," Matarl said in a calmer voice. "And I will at least let her live," As a gesture of good faith, he lowered the weapon from the weeping child. Thalia looked at him warily then, not daring to hope.

"No! You can't trust him!" shouted Mysteel, yet in her desperate state, Thalia listened all the same.

"She's right. How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't. But does this look like a face that would lie to you?" Matarl smiled grotesquely, baring his fangs in all its venomous glory.

"Swear it," trembled Thalia. "Swear it by the Force,"

Matarl shrugged. "Open the door and I swear I will let no harm come to our daughter. May the Force burn me for all eternity if I lie,"

Another horrible period of waiting occurred. Every pair of eyes were on Thalia, waiting to see how she would decide. Then slowly, she stood up and approached the metal gates.

"Mother! No!" Mysteel protested, struggling anew. A look of hurt and betrayal flashed across her face as Thalia turned to her in resignation.

"Forgive me sweetling" she said. The words were spoken quietly but carried across the breadth of the room. "I love you as much as I do her." She gestured to the little Rutian. " But she is innocent. A child that has sworn no oaths. I can't...I can't let her die for something she's never even seen."

Mysteel's face was full of stricken conflict, the scales of duty and family tipping precariously within her mind. Unable to come to a resolution, she glanced at her sister. The child was looking alternatively been Mysteel and Thalia. Normally her face was inquisitive and cheerful. Now they just looked confused and terrified. Mysteel felt her heart melt at the sight. Such a bright girl, the Rutian still had her entire life in front of her. Mysteel loved her with all her heart…and if Thalia was willing to sacrifice the galaxy for her, how could she do any less?

Slowly, excruciatingly, Mysteel nodded her consent.

"All right," Mysteel whispered, bowing her head in defeat. "Just…just make it quick…," Nodding grimly at her approval, Thalia walked up towards the glowing gates with Malleus and Matarl in tow. Matarl hadn't paid much attention to this particular door before, but he did now. On approach, he realized they must have been at least five meters higher than any other door, mighty pinions towering up into the black abyss. The archway was painstakingly etched with elaborate flowing text, names and oaths. Blue light as pure as fire shimmered protectively around the barrier. Matarl felt pain simply from its proximity.

They approached the side console where a blinking symbol was engraved, surrounded by archaic runes. The main symbol was of Aethon, the starburst with wings. Matarl realized it was a keypad of sort, albeit an arcane looking one.

Thalia considered the symbol for a moment,

"Forgive me Lucidae…for this desecration." She whispered under her breath. Then almost tentatively, the Twi'lek reached out and touched the symbol with her fingertips. For a moment, nothing happened. Then black coiled wires, as thin as a needle, snaked out from the stone and impaled themselves in Thalia's wrist. The blinking runes around the main symbol flashed white, amber, then green, repeating the pattern every few seconds. There was a tense silence as ancient technologies sampled the subject's blood and ruminated the proper response.

A few seconds later, the wires withdrew with a hiss and retracted into the wall. As it did, the bright blue dome of light flickered then faded completely. Something began clicking like clockwork behind the massive walls, tiny wheels and cogs that spun furiously as the ancient mechanisms began to turn once more.

The hinges that banded the massive door retracted with the groan of rusted iron. Slowly, painfully the door began to slide open. As the gates unveiled themselves in their ancient majesty, even the child stopped crying. Matarl spared a look at Malleus' normally unreadable face. Right now he was devoting all his attention to the unveiling, like nothing else mattered in the entire galaxy. There was a resounding chug as the final cog whirred into place and the doors grew still.

Malleus walked in, followed by Matarl, the child and Thalia. As Matarl walked into the interior, he found himself mildly disappointed. With the riches that surrounding the antechamber, he had expected the secret room to be filled with mountains of gold or at least ancient artifacts.

But the only thing inside was a sarcophagus.

At least Matarl thought it was a sarcophagus. Despite the engraved text around the lid, the object was essentially a rectangular slab of rock, wide enough for two bodies and coming as high as Matarl's waist. Massive ribbed cables snaked around the tomb like writhing parasites, pumping a red substance in and out.

Matarl prodded Thalia into a corner of the new room while Malleus swept up to the bizarre contraption and brushed the surface of the rock with a palsied hand. With seemingly no effort, Malleus pried open the lid with his claws, and threw it aside. Thalia gave a cry of distress.

"Careful! This equipment is sensitive!"

When the dust had settled, Matarl walked up cautiously with his child to the side of the tomb. He gasped.

Within was a cadaver, the mummified remains of…something. Perhaps it was a Jedi, Matarl had no way of being sure. He realized the cables outside of the sarcophagus coiled into its withered remains. That in itself was disturbing enough, but on either side of the corpse were several items of note. One was a black case, taller than the corpse itself. It looked like some sort of container. On the top of the casing, the words _Praeconor Oblivio _were etched on. To the other side was an item that Matarl recognized as a holocron. The ancient relic was mounted on a black metal tripod engraved with strange symbols.

Malleus started reaching in until Thalia stepped forward, seemingly to stop him. But Matarl simply pointed his gun at her face and she faltered. Reverently, the Renatus took the holocron from its resting place and held it aloft as if he had stumbled upon a priceless artifact. Malleus smiled then, as if indulging in a private joke.

"Lucidae...you and your superstitions. Did you think that the Martyr's body would stop me?"

He spent a few more seconds admiring the artifact until Matarl couldn't stand the suspense.

"So…is this what you've been looking for?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"It is," said Malleus quietly, replacing the item into the folds of his cloak. He then took the black metal case out and studied it intently.

"Why was it buried with this…corpse?"

Malleus turned and gave him a fraction of his attention.

"Look around you Matarl. Haven't you wondered why this labyrinth is so well guarded? Don't you know where you are?"

When Matarl hesitated, he gave a grating chuckle.

"Of course you don't. This is the tomb of the Martyr, a hero of the Jedi Knights that lived thousands of years ago, during the great sundering."

"Martyr?" echoed Matarl.

"Aye. It might not look it, but this planet is holy to them. For a legend here occurred that stands as a precious victory to them. For you see, an important battle was fought." He paused.

"Actually it wasn't much of a battle …more like a skirmish. The civil war had been raging for decades now with no end in sight. Ajunta Pall and his forces had tracked a small roving band of loyalists to this backwater planet and one of them was captured in a raid. It was said that this Jedi was tortured for thirty days and thirty nights for information, for humiliation and simply for the pleasure of hearing her cries. To their surprise, she never broke. Ajunta Pall wanted her to recant the false Order but she refused. When he tried to entice her with secrets and forbidden knowledge, she was deaf to his offerings. Angered by her purity, Ajunta Pall had her butchered and dismembered limb from limb. Yet despite the torture, the Jedi never cried out, not once. It was said the only words that passed her lips were, 'I forgive you,"

"And here is the crux of the story. The Jedi's example apparently galvanized her gaolers. Soon after her death, some of the traitors saw how far they had fallen and rebuked their dark brethren. They turned against Ajunta Pall and fought against his forces, turncloaks twice over. After the Exile, these 'redeemed Jedi Knights' recovered the remains of the maimed one to the Jedi Order and told of her heroic example. The council declared the Jedi's sacrifice worthy of a Martyr. Her remains were preserved and entombed on the world where she performed her greatest act…that of making her fallen brethren repent their wicked ways. It stands as one of the most defining 'moral' victories the Jedi won over Ajunta Pall."

Malleus laughed, pointing at the shriveled husk.

"Lucidae has kept this sanctum safe and secret from prying eyes like mine. He thought as long as he kept his relics within this holy site, those of Ajunta Pall's ilk would never dare to retrieve them. He thought wrong. She has no power left in this place."

Matarl gave the corpse a long, thoughtful look before asking.

"What happens now?"

"I have what I came for," said Malleus softly. He turned and gave Matarl a meaningful look.

"The question is...have you?"

Matarl noticed Thalia was looking at them with cold menace from the corner of the small room. He could see she desperately wanted to rescue her daughter break free of this hapless situation but couldn't find a way. At least for now. He smiled wickedly. "No. Not yet,"

"I will wait outside the antechamber. Make it quick. We have much to discuss," the Renatus gave one more knowing look at Thalia before striding out of the cave with his long sloping gait. When he was gone Matarl turned back to his hostage with a smirk.

"You're such an idiot Thalia."

"What?" Thalia snapped angrily. Matarl laughed.

"Couldn't you tell I was bluffing? _Of course_ I wouldn't have hurt her. She is family after all."

Thalia didn't rise up to the bait. "You got what you wanted," she said. The Twi'lek's face was flushed with the shame of her capitulation and her voice sounded pained from the effort of speaking.

"Now please, let my daughter go,"

Matarl made a show of considering her offer. Then slowly, he brought the child closer to Thalia's outstretched arms. But just as she was within her mother's fingertips, he snatched her away again tauntingly. The child cried and Thalia's eyes widened in anger.

"But you said-!"

"I said I wouldn't hurt her." snapped Matarl. "I didn't say I would let you keep her,"

"Damn you Matarl," she raged. Thalia's hands clawed at him hatefully but Matarl simply raised his weapon at her. Thalia froze, her body as taught as a chained beast.

"Walk back out to the golden bitch. Slowly."

Never taking his eyes off of the other Twi'lek, Thalia did as she was told, walking out the sacred room towards Mysteel. Arctet had regained consciousness at this point. Matarl could see their eyes were full of fear, uncertain what he was planning. When Thalia was only a dozen meters from her daughter, he called out.

"All right, that's far enough. I think we've had enough pussyfooting. Don't you?"

Thalia turned back to him, making one last ditch attempt at rescuing her little daughter.

"Matarl. I know there are no words I can say that will take away your hate for what happened. But that hate should be directed at the people responsible."

Her eyes teared up again. "I'll submit to whatever fate you want to give me…Just please...please let my daughters go."

For a moment in time, the two Twi'leks eyes met and Matarl felt the distant sadness again. So many unspoken things passed between them during that moment. Of hate, loss, love…but mostly regret. Regret at what could have been if destiny had chosen a slightly different path. If he had had simply asked instead of taken…Then the empathy faded and Matarl felt his hate rise to the for again.

"The Force is about balance," he echoed quietly.

"You took away that which I cherished most. And now...I will do the same to you,"

Thalia's anguished expression didn't diminish as Matarl turned to address the other survivor.

"Mysteel," said Matarl in a low voice. He gave her a smile. It was meant to be serene, but coming from him, it looked something a predator would do before making their lunge. Mysteel looked at him with equal measures of hate, shame and fearfulness.

"I wanted to thank you."

"…Thank me?"

"Yes, because if it wasn't for you...I wouldn't have gotten the chance to do all _this_…And I wanted you to know that what happens now is all thanks to you,"

For a single fleeting moment, their eyes locked and a hidden meaning passed between them. Mysteel's eyes widened in horror as she began to realize the monster's intent. The next words that Matarl spoke sealed their fates.

"Your wounds will heal. But this one...this one will always fester."

Still smiling, Matarl raised his pistol and shot Thalia in the chest.

Time seemed to freeze then as the bullet reached its target. One moment, it was hovering just above Thalia's breast. The next it had punctured her through the heart and out the back of her shoulder. There was no blood for a moment…until it gushed out of her chest in a spray of crimson. Thalia seemed almost surprised. She hovered for an agonizing second before collapsing leadenly on the floor.

"No! _Nooooooooo!_" Mysteel shrieked. Arctet and the child did the same. They cried out again and again as a puddle of crimson pooled around Thalia. As they wept, Matarl lowered his weapon with a self satisfied smirk on his face.

"Mercy Mysteel. You were foolish to show it to me. It's what makes you weak,"

With a theatrical bow, the Twi'lek turned back to the door, carrying his shrieking child in his left arm. He walked past the injured scout without a glance, thinking he was too craven to bar his path. He was unpleasantly surprised.

"Bastard!"Arctet, in a rare moment of courage, flung himself against the monster. Grappling onto his trousers, the scout tried to pull the other man down. Matarl was more annoyed than angered at this nuisance.

"Stupid boy. Get off before I lose my temper."

He tried to kick the other man away, but Arctet held on to his leg with fierce tenacity. Then the young scout glared up at him, his face twisted in righteous anger. "This is for Thalia,"

Without warning, the scout drew out his combat knife and stabbed Matarl in the thigh. The Twi'lek hissed in anger as a black stain blossomed on his clothing.

"Son of a bitch!"

Arctet tried to stab again, but Matarl was quicker. He grabbed the youth's arm, stopping the next haphazard attack in its tracks. Then Matarl kicked him in the stomach, prying away the weapon as Arctet cringed in pain. The scout coughed and struggled to get his to his feet. A steel toed boot crushed his hand as he tried to rise, forcing him to stumbled and scream in agony.

With tear streaked eyes, Arctet looked up just in time to Matarl leering down at him, his face contorted with murderous intent. His war knife was poised in the Rutian's hand.

"I hope it was worth it, you maggot,"

"No-!"

Arctet tried to dodge away but it was too late. With a roar of hate, Matarl plunged the war knife through the middle of the younger man's skull, all three feet of lethal metal. The blade came out from the back of his head, bits of brain matter spraying in all directions. The little Rutian shrieked in horror, burying her face in her hands. Arctet twitched, like a malfunctioning droid before falling down dead.

"Everybody wants to be a hero today," Matarl muttered. With that, he left the cave, leaving Mysteel shrieking and cursing his name.

* * *

"Do you hear that?" asked Revan. The dank hallow halls vibrated with the keen of pain and loss, sending a chill up his soul. Their progress up to this point had been glacial. Ever since the first attack, the caves had spewed forth an endless number of unpleasant surprises. Kynes had not made any progress in deactivating her own security system so the pair had been forced to trudge through their own sanctum like rats in a sewer. They had danced along one room surrounded with trip wires, only to stumble through another with burning pitch of all things. And just when they thought they had seen the worst of it, another battalion of droids had made their presence known.

If the Jedi had been more superstitious, he could almost believe that a malevolent entity was watching them from afar, determined to bar them from reaching their goal. It was only when Revan severed what seemed like the hundredth mechanical limb when suddenly, all the machines fell inert and stopped fighting. Before they could question their good fortune, there came the piercing wail. Whatever happened, it was terrible.

"It sounds like..." Kynes broke off and began running at full speed towards the source of the din, ignoring their former enemies. The Jedi kept pace, following the slippery shadow as she flitted through one corridor to the next. As they kept running, the sound of the first scream was replaced by a new one had started, a higher pitched wail than the first. At the sound of distress moved away, Kynes hesitated at a fork in the passages, then abruptly changed course, turning through a tunnel that actually snaked back the way they came.

They ran for a few more seconds until Revan's sharp eyes caught a single silhouette in front of them, shambling down the corridor. Kynes saw it too. She raised her weapon fired a shot. It sparked right in front of their target, causing him to flinch back in surprise.

"Don't move," said Kynes in clipped tones. "Turn around, hands where I can see you,"

The figure hesitated for a moment before obeying the command. Revan inched closer, using the pale blue light of his weapon to illuminate their quarry. What he saw gave him pause. The thing looked vaguely like a Twi'lek but his skin was bloated and palsied like a dead fish. Pupiless eyes stared back with unsettling menace. And writhing within his grasp was…

_Thalia's daughter? _

"Matarl!" Kynes snarled suddenly. For once, she seemed genuinely surprised. Her weapon straightened, drawing a bead on the bizarre looking Twi'lek. Before she could fire, Matarl raised his hostage in front of him like a living shield. The sniper hesitated for a few seconds before lowering her marksman's pistol marginally.

"Kynesssss," hissed the creature with a voice oozing with contempt. His prisoner called out the sniper's' name as well, although it was hard to make out as her voice choked with fear and grief. "And here I thought I wouldn't get the trifecta."

"What have you done here?" the sniper demanded. "Where's T'shere?"

"Oh don't worry, she's back in that dusty tomb." He flashed an ugly smile. "I saved you the trouble of moving her there."

"You-!" the sniper's eyes flared in rage. She cocked the hammer of her marksman's pistol and prepared to fire, heedless of the hostage in front of her. For a split second Revan noticed the Twi'lek's eyes flash behind them. He instinctively dodged to the side, just as a crimson spray of light hissed through the air, where his midsection used to be.

Several things seemed to happen at once.

Revan rolled to his feet and saw a towering black wraith flit by his shoulder. Kynes whipped her pistol around and fired at the movement, but the thing had congealed back into the shadows and out of her line of sight.

Cursing, Kynes drew her weapon back at Matarl but the Twi'lek had disappeared. Before either of them could react, Revan heard a faint rumbling noise. The soft sound quickly grew into a thundering crescendo. He looked up in alarm to the sight of the ceiling shaking, huge splinters erupting on its jagged surface.

The roof was caving in.

"Run!" he yelled.

Too late. The first chunk of rock clipped Kynes on the shoulder. She staggered to one leg, disoriented but that was just the beginning. The rest of the ceiling was coming down on her and the Jedi realized the sniper would be crushed from the fallout. Cursing, he leapt forward and pushed Kynes with all his might, sending her flying several feet away. Revan didn't have time to contemplate what happened next. He heard the deafening roar of a thousand canons, then the bone crunching pressure on his back. Revan tried to call out but his mouth clogged with dust and he felt himself choking. Pain like never before flared across his entire body as the fury of a hundred tones of rock descended upon his helpless form.

The Jedi must have blacked out because the next thing he knew, the ringing in his ears had gone and the shaking of pulverized rock had stopped. Only now, he was also almost completely covered in debris. Revan coughed painfully, his vision swimming in and out of blackness. He tried to move but the stone blanket on top of him made that impossible. The pressure was almost unbearable.

Just as he was about to pass out again from pain, a shadow loomed over his bloodied face. Revan tried to make out details but his eyes refused to focus.

"Hrrmmmm," said the gloomy form, leaning in.

"You smell like death,"

Revan tried the respond but he found no air to give voice. In his last moments of consciousness, he saw the shadowy figure straighten then gradually recede into the darkness, his footballs echoing softly through the caves.

Then he knew nothing.

* * *

Desperation had given Mysteel frightening strength. Screaming at the top of her lungs, the Twi'lek lifted the dead weight off inch by agonizing inch. When she had enough room, Mysteel rolled out of the way, letting the statue crash back down with a dull thud. Not waiting to catch her breath, the Twi'lek stumbled teary eyed to Thalia.

Her mother felt cold to the touch. For a horrible moment, Mysteel thought she was too late, but a slight sigh from the other Twi'lek's chest told her Thalia was still alive. With trembling hands, Mysteel lifted her blood stained face close to hers. When the droplets of tears struck her cheek, Thalia's dark eyes flittered open.

"Mother," Mysteel sobbed in relief as their eyes met. "Oh-oh thank the Force."

"Mysteel," Thalia murmured, her voice distant and shallow " I'm sorry..I'm so sorry. I've betrayed Lucidae and everyone he stands for. And I-I let him take her,"

"No, No…" stammered the younger Twi'lek "it's not your fault. I-I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't strong enough to protect you both,"

"We-we have to save her," Thalia husked.

"We will!" said Mysteel hurriedly. " But I have to get you help. I need to get you to Lucidae-"

She tried to lift her mother, to carry her away, but a pain wracked cough from Thalia stopped her. Terrified that the trauma would kill her, Mysteel gently lowered her back down.

"No sweetling. Lucidae cannot help me anymore. I will die here...under the gaze of forgotten heroes. To meet my end in a tomb...it is almost poetic..."

"Don't say that!" Mysteel said angrily. "You're the Haunter of Kala'un! The Haunter doesn't die!"

Thalia smiled sadly.

"The Haunter...yes, the Haunter will live on but I will not. I …I have sinned too much in this lifetime."

Tears crept up the corner of Thalia's face.

"I told…I told Revan I did everything for noble goals...but I see the falsehood in my words now. I-I have schemed and I have killed. I have corrupted others through my actions. To pay for these sins I joined Lucidae's mission and now...I have. This is a fitting end for me,"

It sounded almost like a confession, with only her daughter to bear witness. Mysteel could only look at her mother helplessly, unsure of what to say. Great fat tears stained her beautiful sapphire eyes crimson.

"But there...There's still so much for us to do. So much to experience... You-you need to be there when I rescue the little scamp."

Mysteel tried to sound cheerful, but failed hopelessly. Pain wracked her like never before. At the forefront was guilt, anger...and above all sadness. When she was hurt, Thalia always knew how to fix her...how to make things better. But now that her mother needed help, Mysteel was helpless. The hardest thing in reality was to have a loved one die before their eyes.

"Y-You need to train her, and see her grow up before your eyes. You need to be there and tell us how much you love us…a-and how proud you are..." Mysteel broke off again as she started to cry.

Thalia smiled, and cusped her daughter's cheek.

"My little golden nugget," she whispered. "I _am_ proud of you. I made a terrible mother but somehow, you turned out to be so perfect."

"No," Mysteel sobbed. "You-you were the best mother. The best that anyone could ever want. Fun, playful...and caring."

Thalia tried to say something, but a fit of bloody coughing took her. Mysteel cradled her dying body closer, dabbing gently at her mouth.

"T-take care of your sister for me. The most important thing in this...galaxy is family. She-she needs to be around loved ones...around her kindred." Thalia grasped her hand with surprising strength. "Promise me,"

"I promise mother," Mysteel whispered. "On my soul. By all that is sacred, I promise..."

Some of the pain seemed to leave Thalia features. Her breathing slowed and she closed her eyes. She looked so serene. So peaceful. Mysteel didn't think her mother had looked more beautiful than she had now,

"I...I love you Mysteel...I..." Thalia's eyes began to cloud over.

"Please, just hold on," begged Mysteel. "People- people are coming to help. You have to hold on so you can be there when I bring her back. You need to-you still need to give her a name..."

"Her name..." Thalia's voice sounded as thin as a reed. "I-I had the perfect one chosen for her...I wanted to wait until her third name day."

"W-what is it?" Myateel asked tremulously.

"Her name...her name is..." Thalia's mouth moved but no sound came out. With a final exhale, her body finally stopped fighting.

With that final breath, Thalia Vao died.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, _no NO!"_

Mysteel let out one final scream. It was a banshee's wail filled with more emotion than could be thought possible, of loss and mourning for the passing of such a brave and beautiful woman. Mysteel rocked her mother's body back and forth, denying what had just happened before her eyes.

"Stay with me mother," she whispered.

"Please...just stay with me,"

* * *

_Author's note: On that happy ending, I just wanted to point out I have two new images of Mysteel and T'shere on my deviantart page. Mysteel's image is kind of a self portrait. T'shere's picture is kind of something I just drew as in-joke to the story. It's something I imagine would only be for Kyne's eyes only =)._

_This story has been getting kind of long and I'm debating whether to split the final section into a separate story. So don't be surprised if this story doesn't get updated._


	29. Chapter 29 The Black Dream Part 1

_I thought there was something familiar about you_

_-unattributed source._

* * *

_"Are you listening?"_

_"...What?"_

_Revan snapped his eyes open at the voice and was surprised to find he didn't know where he was. The Jedi's mind felt hazy and intangible, like he was waking from a dream. And like a dream, he struggled to snatch bits and pieces before it faded completely. Something about the Jedi Masters...a traitor...and betrayal. _

_And eyes. Inquisitive green eyes. _

_Blinking rapidly, he looked up to see a completely different pair staring at him with distaste, lips pursed. They were ice cold, like the flensing wind of a deadly hinterland. _

_"Is there something particularly fascinating about the floor?" she asked without humor._

_Revan tried to make sense of his situation. A quick analysis told him he was being addressed by a Jedi, albeit a very unusual one. The speaker was dressed in a curvaceous orange skin robe with a red collar. Her hair was arranged in stylish but practical plaits. Even her accent was unusual, somehow melodic and taut as a whip. When Revan didn't answer immediately, she became more annoyed. _

_"You do realize this mission is of the utmost importance do you not? Try not to shame the others with your example."_

_"Of course, it won't happen again." Revan said, hoping to buy some time. His contrition seemed to satisfy her for the time being and she turned away. Having averted suspicion, his eyes roamed around to try and figure out where he was. _

_The first thing Revan realized was that he was on a starship simply by the thrum of engines filtering into his eardrums. The room was alive with activity, every corner crammed with crew members sporting naval uniforms. Men and droid alike were poring over workstations while others were running around carrying supplies or readouts. _

_After looking around, Revan realized he had awoken into some sort of meeting. The Jedi was one of many cluttered around a hololith projector, dominating everyone's attention with an array of miniature ship models, trajectories and statistics. At least a dozen of his brethren were present, resplendent in grey and brown robes. Republic infantry mingled around them as well, armoured in the red and yellow of their station. They were all from various alien stock but each had a grim caste about their faces. One group in particular stood out among the rest, daunting figures clad entirely in night black armor, their faces obscured behind featureless masks. Revan noticed most of the crowd had created as much birth between them as possible, leaving the imposing soldiers at one end of their makeshift meeting table. _

_A human soldier, a captain by the look of his badges and filigree decorating his shoulder pads had been droning on while Revan made his assessment and he diverted his attention to him to see what the man had to say._

_"...with these calculations, our forward fleet will translate out of hyperspace right in front of the enemy, giving us the element of surprise. While most of the fleet are engaged, the Vanquisher along with the Iron Will and Direwind will make a strafing run through their formation and break towards their flagship. With luck, we can deliver enough firepower to weaken their shields and penetrate..."_

_As the words registered, Revan finally realized why he was here. This was a meeting for war. And their goal was to kill a…_

_++Traitor. The fleet is trying to make the traitor vulnerable so the Jedi can kill him.++_

_He began to remember what had transpired before awakening in this room. Most importantly, he remembered the devil's bargain the Jedi Masters had made, how they planned to use the traitor's infighting to their advantage. The people in this meeting didn't know it, but this entire mission was a ruse. A ruse that would only work with the proper bait. _

++_She showed me...that the Council would sacrifice their own to ensure he is brought low.++_

_Apparently by their decree, the council had condemned countless ships and souls to their death just for the chance that the traitor could cut down by his own men. _

_The thought still chaffed at the newly initiated Jedi. How could the Master be so callous? Were the Jedi not above such petty politics for survival? Revan refused to believe it. Everything he had seen to this point must have been a trick, some elaborate scheme to test his faith in the Order. He promised himself that would not falter in his convictions. _

_...Yet the Jedi couldn't help wonder if there was a remote chance that what he was experiencing now was really real. It certainly felt real. The smell of engine oil, even the subtle vibrations of the deck plating...everything was fit to reality as he knew it. If this was a holographic illusion then it was the best one he had ever seen._

_++So be it. I'll play along for now.++_

_His final test apparently was to help kill this traitor. But how would it happen? And who among his brethren has the dubious honor of being the scapegoat? He continued to listen intently, hoping to catch some tidbit of information that would shed light on his questions._

_"..Boarding parties must secure the breach quickly. Squads Hellfire, Talon and Shadowspire will provide general support, leaving squads Callisus and Mortis to advance with the main Jedi contingent. Force willing, we will be able to kill the bastard and end this bloody war. Any questions?"_

_One of the soldiers raised his hand. "Permission to speak freely captain?"_

_The captain grimaced. "Somehow, I don't think I'm going to like what you have to say."_

_"Quite right," said the other man, standing up to face his peers. "You know the phrase, 'cut off the head, kill the body? Well, we've tried that."_

_He gave the captain a challenging look. _

"_We all know the army has sent specialists to liquidate the Jedi traitor R-"_

"_Do not profane this meeting with his name!" hissed one of the Jedi. Some of his kindred nodded, making warding gestures. The first soldier rolled his eyes._

"_Fine. We've sent specialists to liquidate the 'traitor' several times and some of the missions were supposedly successes. But the bastard always seems to rear his ugly head afterwards. It's almost like he can't die. How will this be any different?"_

_There was a murmur of agreement at the words. The captain raised his hands for quiet and said._

_"Because this time, we have the blessings of the Jedi council themselves. They have sent their brightest star to help us eliminate the traitor. With the battle meditator leading our boarding forces, we will be victorious." _

_Revan's ears pricked up at his words. Battle Meditator. The Council said they would sacrifice the Battle Meditator. ++Who is this person...?++ _

_To his surprise, the captain gestured to the female Revan traded words with when he awoke. _

"_Isn't that right…commander?"_

_All eyes turned towards the lithe form. The leader of the Jedi expedition gave a curt nod._

_"Quite right captain." The one the captain had called the Battle Meditator turned her gaze to the other soldiers, her patrician face stern. "The council, in their infinite wisdom has sanctioned this engagement. With one swift stroke, we shall kill the traitor and bring the war to its rightful conclusion. He shall not escape his fate this time."_

_++Apparently, neither shall you...++_

_Revan felt he should say something to this person, to warn her about the trap she was walking into. If the Master's words were true, then she was definitely going to die in the upcoming mission. _

_++But what can I say? Commander, you've been set up. This entire mission is just a ploy and you're the bait. Oh and the only proof I have is from a vision a ghost sent me in a dream.++_

_The words sounded absurd in any context. But he couldn't just stand idly by while she stumbled into the jaws of the beast. Perhaps the true test was to prevent her ignominious fate. Yes...kill him without condemning her. That would certainly prove his mettle. _

_Regardless, her words seemed to alleviate some of the tension in the room and the soldiers stopped muttering. But then, someone made a rude noise. Almost reluctantly, everyone turned to face the black clad statues in the corner of the room. Particularly to the female leaning precariously on the chair with two legs propped off the floor. _

_"You have something to add lieutenant?" asked the captain. His voice seemed more resigned than angered by her lack of protocol._

_"As a matter of fact, I do captain. You're saying the Jedi Council's plan is to kill the traitor with this princess? What, is their plan to get him to laugh to death?"_

_Everyone looked like they had just been bitch slapped. _

_Revan couldn't help but marvel at the speaker's gall. Like all her intimidating kind, she was masked but the Jedi noticed a shock of red hair peeking out from her visor. While the rest of the soldiers's masks were dark and opaque, hers was ornately painted and fashioned to resemble a bleached grinning skull. The helmet gave her voice a mechanical quality, but he could still make out the disdainful tone in her words. Apparently, the rest of the Jedi contingent heard it as well, because one of them, a Neimodian pushed forward angrily._

_"Who the hell are you to-"_

_The Battle Meditator barred her comrade's path before things could get ugly._

_"No, I can speak for myself."_

_As the Neimodian grudgingly stepped back, she approached the soldier, the sea of red and brown parting for her path. The black clad statues surrounding the female however, didn't budge. As Revan paid closer attention, he noticed these soldiers didn't carry the same badges or even regimental designations as the other Republic soldiers. Instead, the only sigil they sported was a faded skull on top of a broken wing. A single word described their trade: Mortis. _

_++Death. They certainly look the part...++_

_Seemingly unimpressed, the female Jedi approached the squad's ringmaster with cold grace and stared down._

_"Do you know who I am lieutenant?"_

_The other woman shrugged lazily._

_"I can ask you the same question? Do you?"_

_The Jedi was taken back by her impudent tone but said nothing._

_"Well, if you didn't bother to look at the dossier for my name, you can't expect me to extend the same courtesy now, can you?"_

_This time a Twi'lek Jedi reacted to her words, his face red with indignation._

_"Impudent wretch! This is commander-"_

_"I know who she is, thank you for pointing out the bloody obvious" drawled the black clad female, turning fractionally. The words were spoken lazily, but there was a threatening undercurrent that gave the Twi'lek pause. _

_"I don't think there is a soul in the army who doesn't. Although the fact that she is known more for her strategically revealing outfits than her skill with the blade isn't exactly inspiring."_

_The woman turned her grinning mask back towards the battle meditator. _

_"So you'll forgive me if I don't line up behind you to kiss your ass."_

_There was a chorus of gasps at the callous remark, and the captain planted his face into his hand. The room seemed to have suddenly plummeted in temperature as the two women stared icily at one another. It appeared to Revan that the mission would implode before it even began. _

_Most of the Jedi frowned with customary disapproval and the soldiers muttered darkly under their breathes, but no one dared to intervene in this battle of wills. _

_It was the Battle Meditator that broke the silence, her voice as cold as steel. _

_"When this mission is over, I'm going to have a word with your superiors. But until that time, you had best reign in that attitude lieutenant. Since I have overall command of this mission, your fate is in my hands."_

_"Sad to say you do," replied the red haired woman with equal disdain. "It seems like your precious council has run out of real Jedi to throw pointlessly to their deaths. Now they send children to fight their battles for them. Who else thinks that's stupid?"_

_Despite her sarcastic tone, the lieutenant's words seemed to have struck a chord. If what she said was true, then the commander of the expedition was not even a fully fledged Jedi Knight. Revan looked at the person in question and noticed a faint flush beneath her collar which belied the truth. The common soldiers also looked disheartened. The first Jedi, the Neimodian spoke up to defend their precarious situation._

_"The wisdom of the council is not for the likes of you to discern." Said the alien, standing up and pointing an accusing finger _

_"And what gives you the right to question the Masters? Who the hell are you anyways?"_

_There was a chorus of chuckles among the soldiers, like the Jedi had said something particularly stupid. The accuser flushed, uncertain why he was suddenly the target of ridicule. It was one of the redhead's associates who answered him, albeit sarcastically._

"_Take a bow Jedi, you have the honor of addressing Whoresbane, widowmaker and leader of the Death Company."_

_"...What?" The rank and file chuckled again and the Neimodian suddenly looked like he regretted asking the question. The woman known as Whoresbane stood up and stretched languidly._

_"Oh yes. I've acquired somewhat of a reputation. You see, I am a depraved sort of gal it shames me to admit. I've been known to collect trophies from my enemies."_

_The redhead produced a necklace from her pouch. From Revan's vantage point it looked like a necklace of pearls. Each sphere was dull and shrivelled, resembling a shrunken head or other tribal fetish. She raised the necklace and waved it around the Jedi's faces._

_"Do you know what these balls are?" the redhead asked. The Jedi stayed silent but suspicious._

_"I'll give you a hint. There are twelve of them, and I had to kill six Mandalorians to get them."_

_At that point, there was a collective exhale of revulsion amongst the Jedi with more chuckles from her squad. "Force, that's disgusting!" one of the Jedi exclaimed. _

_"Potato patato" Whoresbane shrugged, turning back to the first one who challenged her for a name. "Anyways, to answer your question, I'm called Whorsebane because I tend to aim low. More often then not, I end up maiming my targets. Dead or alive, they won't be using at least one pistol after I'm done with them."_

_There was more laughing and not just her squad as Whoresbane continued speaking._

_"And being the consummate professional, I like to keep an honest tally. But you see, the army tends to frown on skull taking, so I found this nifty compromise. You'd be surprised how these body parts can double as jewelry after applying the right preservatives. When I'm feeling generous, I pass them off as gifts to my friends and superiors I don't like. They tell me they like the texture." _

_Some of the men looked sick to their stomach while others looked ready to bust a gut. The Jedi known as the battle meditator looked angry, clearly not taking the mockery well. The room became silent when her lightsaber appeared suddenly in her hand. As she raised the weapon to Whoresbane's face, the death company raised theirs with calmly measured timbre._

_"I won't stand for your insolence any longer." the Jedi commander said the words with cold fury. "A person as uncouth and amoral as you is unworthy of leading men to war," _

_The redhead turned back to her. Despite any discernible features, she was plainly unimpressed by the other's threat. The soldier moved into her personal space, until they were practically touching. Both looked intimidating but between her black armor and death mask, Revan thought Whoresbane was the scarier of the two._

_"I agree." Whoresbane said eventually "I am as unfit to lead my squad as you are to lead this expedition." She pointed to the battle meditator's weapon._

_"So why don't you push the button on that metal cock you're fondling so eagerly right now and see how it fares against my measly sidearm? In the end, one of us will lie dead and the mission odds will have improved." _

_As Whoresbane said the words, she unholstered her blaster and casually unclicked the safety. Most of the Jedi were also fingering their weapons, ready to spring into action at a word. The regular soldiers just looked on uneasily. The captain looked like he would rather be anywhere but in the conference room with these lunatics._

_"Or you can shut the hell up and walk away before being court marshalled. I think your brothers and sisters miss being terrorized already."_

_"You….You…" the battle meditator seethed. _

_Revan knew she had been tricked. If it was the Jedi who started a bloodbath here, the mission would be effectively ruined. Sure, she could probably kill the braggart and claim elements of the army had revolted but the Jedi image of calm collected warriors would be tarnished. Not to mention the remaining soldiers would mutter how easily she was goaded by a common grunt and everyone would lose all faith in her ability to lead. Sometimes restraint was the better quality of a leader. Still, Revan could see that the impulsive young Jedi was one snicker away from taking up on her offer. _

_After a strained period of silence, the battle meditator raised a hand, and her companions stood down. The redhead's men did not. _

_"I'm not going to stand here and trade barbs with a witless idiot," she said in dismissive tones, turning to the rest of the room. "This farce has gone on long enough. You all know the mission parameters. Squad leaders, gather your men and make final preparations. Dismissed."_

_Slowly, the Republic soldiers trudged out the door, whispering under their breaths. The captain looked balefully at the black clad soldiers before marching out in parade order as well. The battle mediator began leaving with her litter. She spared one more glance at the woman who had just made her most wanted list._

_"Mark my words lieutenant, this isn't over,"_

_With that, she started walking to the doors. Whoresbane let out a parting shot._

_"Better keep your ass against the wall commander. You know how unruly men can get"_

_There was another round of chuckles from her men as the commander left with all the dignity she could muster. Her stooges followed behind like whipped dogs, leaving only Revan and the black clad soldiers in the conference room._

_As the last a Jedi disappeared through the door, squad Mortis relaxed and some started laughing in earnest. Their leader made a disgusted noise and flopped back onto her chair, shaking her head. _

_"Force, greener than a cadet. I bet she pisses grass."_

_"You were a little harsh on her Miss O" chuckled one of her men._

_"I don't need some uptight prissy girl, fresh out of boot camp waltzing us to our deaths." Whoresbane retorted._

"_If she wants to survive to see her moonrise she'd better well take that damn stick out her ass and start beating the enemy to death with it."_

_"You might as well wish for your maidenhood back,"_

_There was more laughter until the redhead seemed to notice not every Jedi had left yet. She turned and stared at Revan who until this point had remained rooted to his spot, waiting for the chance to speak._

_"Why are you still here pretty boy?" Whoresbane's asked disdainfully. "You've got a problem with how I shoved a finger up that girl's bung hole? Keep staring and I'll shove one up yours as well."_

_Making good on her threat, she raised a hand and all of squad Mortis' guns were suddenly on him. Revan hesitated, wondering how to diffuse the situation. It was clear the volatile woman was spoiling for a fight and he knew that intimidation and weakness would go poorly with her. He chose his words carefully._

_"Well I wouldn't want that. I'm still recovering from my last anal fissure,"_

_There was a stunned silence. Then Whoresbane did the best thing Revan could hope for in the situation. She laughed. The soldiers relaxed as well and lowered their weapons._

_"Ha. I like you Jedi. And I haven't liked that many in my lifetime."_

_The lieutenant beckoned him to come closer. As he approached, she cocked her helmet to the side and looked at him strangely._

_"Something wrong?" Revan asked. She stared a while longer then broke off, shaking her head._

_"Hmmph, nothing. For a moment, I thought there was something familiar about you. Have I given you facial surgery with my fists before?"_

_"Not to my knowledge"_

_As the words left his mouth, Revan realized his voice sounded different. The Jedi looked down and saw he was dressed in plain white as opposed to his customary grey. When he touched his face, he felt a course stubble which hadn't been here before._

_++What's happened to me?++ He thought, more than a little disturbed. The other woman didn't seem to notice his concern."_

_"Tell me truly Jedi. Has that little princess even popped the proverbial cherry?" _

_At Revan's silence, she laughed. "I didn't think so. Our bosses knew that if by some bloody miracle we manage to break through the traitor's fleet and infiltrate his ship, she wouldn't be able to finish the job. That's why they sent me along for the ride."_

_Whoresbane leaned back on her chair casually, fondling one of her necklaces. Unlike her other gruesome totems, this one was actually wrought of metal. It looked like a pendant of some sort._

_"I bet why you're wondering why the captains and boy fondlers at high command put up with us. Well, unlike that princess, I am very good at killing. And dismembering. That's why I got assigned on this suicide run."_

_One of her stooges spoke up._

_"Really ma'am? I thought you consigned us all to death because you had a personal score to settle with the traitor."_

_She shrugged. "That too. Doesn't make what I said any less true,"_

_Revan was intrigued "You knew him?" Whoresbane nodded,_

_"Not many people know this. But we took on the Mandalorians together. Literally fought under his banner. I thought he was a decent enough kind of guy y'know? But then he went all insane. And he...he killed..." _

_The woman trailed off, a note of sadness creeping into her normally cocky voice. Revan stayed shuffled uncomfortably, unsure what to say. Sensing his discomfort, Whoresbane snorted and stood up._

_"It doesn't matter. What matters is I'm on this mission to collect his head. If the princess doesn't get him, you can bet your left testicle I will."_

_Whoresbane holstered her weapon and gave Revan an inquiring look._

_"So...you know my name now. What's yours?"_

_Before Revan could reply an electronic drone buzzed to life on the intercom._

_"All hands, this is the captain. As of this moment, essential personnel are to report to your battle stations. I repeat all essential personnel to battle stations. The fleet will translate out of light speed in five minutes and engage the enemy. Make no mistake, we are about to enter hell. Many of us will not survive the first five minutes of this mission. But know this, every living soul in the Republic is praying for our victory. And none of our lives matter as long as we can bring the traitor down so that they may know peace. That's why I'm counting on every one of you to go beyond the call of duty. I know you'll do me proud. Good luck…"_

_The voice hesitated for a moment._

"…_and may the Force be with us all."_

_With that, the intercom went dead. Revan turned to the leader of the death company, wondering if she had any inspiring words. Whoresbane just dusted herself off nonchalantly and said. "Finally. Let's go to the bridge. I want to see things blow up."_

* * *

_True to the captain's word, the Republic fleet broke out of hyperspace and into hell. _

_Revan could scarcely believe it as he stared at the viewscreen on the bridge. For every cruiser, bomber, destroyer and capital ship that fell back into realspace, a dozen more were there to meet them. The sheer amount of ships facing them was staggering. They blotted the void like a swarm of grey locusts. _

_Still, the Republic fleet had the element of surprise, and they used it to the fullest extent possible. Within moments of translation, fiery explosions dotted the void as lances of ruby tore through the first wave. Vast capital ships pummelled their lesser brethren into oblivion with cannons the size of mountains. Cruisers unleashed payloads that expanded into hellish mushroom clouds, immolating dozens of ships and reducing them to fiery wreckage. _

_The enemy ships responded with equal fervor. Hundreds upon hundreds of lance batteries flared to life and shrieked into their Republic counterparts. A capital ship was shorn in two as a pillar of light, like the wrath of god ripped through it's underbelly, thereby consigning its thousands of passengers to an agonizing death. Dozens of shields overloaded from the sheer fury of the counter onslaught, their hull metal flensed from their bony frame before exploding. In the first exchanges, hundreds of thousands died in droves as the two mighty fleets pummelled each other to oblivion._

_Through the carnage came the Vanquisher, tearing straight through the heart of the storm, eager to deposit it's payload of assassins. It dipped and weaved deeper into enemy lines, braving enemy and friendly fire alike. It was a fast ship, built for speed and maneuverability. And right now its engines were on full burn, hurling itself ever closer to its destination. Strafing the Vanquisher was the Direwind and Iron Will, the only other two ships in the armada fast enough to keep pace. They hovered protectively over Vanquisher, making sure it took the least of the damage coming their way. _

_As fast as they were, the trio's progress did not go unhindered though. Several of the enemy's ships broke off to engage them. The smaller fighter jets buzzed around the three like a swarm of flies, peppering their shields. And despite the chaff and anti-missiles fired in retaliation, the Vanquisher's hull juddered frequently as lances of hate tore through its outer hull. _

_And within the ship, the damage was keenly felt._

* * *

_++Okay...this is definitely real.++ Revan thought as he shielded his face from a barrage of sparks from an overloaded power terminal. _

_The rest of the boarding parties were congregated on the bridge as well, waiting to be unleashed onto the enemy ship. But judging from the damage reports funnelling in, the odds of that happening were becoming increasingly slim. As chaos reigned in the void, Revan and the rest of the crew could feel every shudder and explosion. Power surges wracked the ship, overloading circuits and damaging critical systems. _

_"Portside Shield generators are down." shouted a naval rating. No sooner had he said that when a particularly nasty shot struck the ship. Incendiary explosions lit up many of the consoles, bathing the crewing in flames and sparks. One ensign caught the blast full in the face and she rolled to the ground, shrieking in pain._

_As two of the crew rushed to her aid, the captain shouted. "Get the damn medics up here. And give me a status report!"_

_"Life support in levels two and eight are gone!" yelled one of the ensigns, barely able to be heard over the roar of explosions._

_"Decks three through five are burning! Crews are initiating containment!"_

_Between the flurry of activity from the crew and the noise of impact, Revan could hardly hear himself think. The bridge became a scene of chaos as half the crew tried to maintain the ship while the other half tried to smother the raging fire with extinguishers. The viewscreen flickered erratically, showing only a blurry haze of data and grey ships. The Jedi that huddled around their de facto leader looked anxious, however the death company stood impassively amid the frenzy, almost like their were bored. It appeared they had accepted death a long time ago._

_Another nasty shot shook the bridge, overloading more terminals and killing two men. As the shouting reached a crescendo, one of the pilot's reached out in a panicky voice,_

_"Hull breach on deck nine! We're venting plasma!" He turned back to his captain, his eyes wide with fear. "We have to disengage!"_

_"No" the command came from the battle meditator, a calm oasis in the storm. All eyes turned to her as she stepped forward and pointed at the fizzling view screen. In front of them lay the largest ship Revan had ever seen, a grey monolith that blotted out the void. It dwarfed its sisters through its size and sheer aura of menace, the gunmetal hull dagger shaped and bristling with armaments. Right now, it was destroying every Republic ship with impunity, its red lances wreaking havoc on the smaller fighters and cruisers. _

_++The traitor's flagship++ Revan thought._

_"Our target lies within reach. All we have to do is follow-,"_

_She was interrupted by a awesome boom as two bright shots from the flagship thundered through the Direwind's reinforced hull. Everyone looked on in horror as their sister ship, which had so faithfully shielded them until now suddenly erupted in a cataclysmic explosion, its drive core going critical. Spewing through its ruptured innards were the hundreds of men and woman that served, their screams eternally frozen on their faces by the coldness of the void. Many of them splattered like flies on the Vanquisher, leaving smears of blood on their viewport._

_Many of the Vanquisher's own naval crew began to panic, including the pilot. _

_"We have to retreat!" he snapped shakily. "At the rate of damage we're taking, we're going to end up space slag as well! I'm not dying for the-"_

_The frightened crew member stopped in mid sentence when he felt the barrel of cold metal touch the back of his head. For a moment, everyone stopped shouting and stared at the unfolding scene. Whoresbane had miraculously appeared behind the pilot, her gun cocked and ready to blow the coward's brains across the floor._

_"Get us to that ship ensign." she said calmly. "Or you will have the singular honor of being the corpse that fills our hull breach."_

_The effect was instantaneous. Crew members started shouting course trajectories and target locks instead of how screwed they were. The pilot worked the controls with almost feverous vigor, banking the ship to and fro to avoid the worst of the calamity raining down upon them. Revan shook his head, appalled and amazed how effective the lieutenant was. He almost believed they were going to make it until another ship mate announced._

_"Captain, we are twenty thousand kilometers from the enemy's shield perimeter. If we don't get them down, we'll be reduced to slag!"_

_The captain began shouting orders into the intercom. "Vanquisher to Iron Will! We need those shield down!"_

_"Still working on them captain." came the garbled reply._

_"Well work faster or this will be a real short mission!" retorted the captain with classic understatement._

_"We are compensating for their modulating frequencies. Standby." With that, the intercom went dead and the pummelling resumed._

_Everyone stared intently at view screen as the flagship magnified with alarming alacrity. At the moment, the flagship seemed strangely inert, as the full fury of the Republic fleet descended upon it. A red tide of cannon fire, missiles and bright lances tore through space, pummelling the formidable ship with its hate. Its shields took the brunt of the hits but Revan saw they burned red with the stress of the punishment being inflicted. This would be close._

_"10000 kilometers!" a naval rating yelled. "9000!"_

_As the countdown continued, the flagship became so big that Revan could make out their individual cannons. And yet, their shields still flared, indicating the Vanquisher would likely die trying to breach the energy field. Charging in recklessly now meant a likely death, but to stop meant certain death at their guns so the Vanquisher did not stop. _

_Then almost lazily, the enemy flagship turned its broadside cannons and fired at the Iron Will. Every let out a gasp of disbelief as the ship's torso tore off from it's tail, both ends hurtling like a broken stick before exploding in a spectacular array of fireworks. And with that, the Vanquisher was alone, cut off and isolated against a seemingly insurmountable enemy. Everyone's hearts were in their throats as the ship hurtled seemingly to it's doom, sirens blaring. _

_Then suddenly, one of the crew members exclaimed._

_"There! Sector 3-25. Their shield integrity is unstable."_

_"Only unstable?" snapped the captain._

_"It's the best we've got!" the ensign retorted._

_The captain stood up immediately. "Full energy to forward shields. Bring us in!"_

_At the command Vanquisher lurched, banking sharply at a 45 degree angle to reach the new coordinates. Several soldiers were thrown off their feet but most of them managed to grab a handrail. Many of the soldiers on the floor had their heads down, muttering to whatever pagan gods they thought existed. The Jedi had their heads bowed for the inevitable, but Whoresbane and her men kept staring at the screen._

_"2000...1000...mark!_

_As the last countdown ended, Revan felt a tremor shake through his body as the Vanquisher passed through the residual energy displacement of the flagship. A groan reverberated through the bridge, as invisible gravitational forces tried to twist the Vanquisher apart. _

_Then the shuddering throughout the ship diminished as the Vanquisher crossed the threshold. The sudden release was like a slingshot, the momentum jarring many more onto the floor. Whoresbane herself was thrown off her feet and onto her rump cursing. Revan jogged to her side and lent her a hand up which she surprisingly accepted. As many of the soldiers regained their footing, the pilot announced the obvious in a shaky voice. _

_"We're...we're through." _

_A cheer erupted from some of the men but it was muted by the captain. "Fly the Vanquisher to sector 24 level 18 and arm the boarding claws. Prepare to initiate docking procedures. I want..."_

_As the ship members scuttled to obey his orders, Whoresbane turned to Revan and said. "Huh, is it just me, or did that feel too good to be true?"_

_++Yes...this is exactly what the traitor wants.++. Revan kept his thoughts to himself though and said. "The Force has a sense of humor,"_

_"Ha. Damn straight,"_

_The battle meditator looked like she was about to make a command, but Whorsebane beat her to it. She turned to the soldiers on deck and bellowed._

_"Well? Why are you all still standing around with your trousers down? Are you waiting for a reward? Get to the damn boarding tubes and start killing."_

_The death company reacted immediately. They hammered their fists across their chest and marched towards the exit with precision order. The regular soldiers looked at their squad leaders uneasily before shuffling out with much less enthusiasm. The battle meditator seemed miffed that Whorsebane had once again stole her thunder. She looked around, somewhat wrong footed and said._

_"Jedi, rally to me. We bring the fight to the enemy."_

_With that, she marched out as well, surrounded by a ring of her cohorts. Whoresbane gave an airy wave to their captain before turning back to the last Jedi in the room._

_"Are you coming? It wouldn't be the same without you."_

_Revan nodded. He gave one last look at the view screen before leaving with Whoresbane to meet the traitor's forces._


	30. Chapter 30 The Black Dream Part 2

_"Who are you?"_

_-Revan_

* * *

_Revan watched with bated breath as the lone Jedi inspected the three inch layer of metal that separated them from the enemy. Twenty other figures stood with him on the boarding tube. He could feel the sense of anticipation among the mass of tightly bunched bodies, the tightly controlled battle lust from each member of the kill team, just itching to be released._

_Eventually the warrior withdrew her hand and turned to the expectant commander._

"_Fifteen..." signed the Jedi in army code. "There are fifteen on the other side, close together"_

_The battle meditator gave a curt nod. With silent gestures, she directed the rest of her brethren into position. Revan and a trio of Jedi stood in front of the entry point while the rest of the boarding party shuffled more tightly to either side of the wall to give them room. _

_She looked to either side for final confirmation before giving a brief nod to the four. At her cue, they plunged their weapons into the sealed gates. The metal sparked an angry red then yielded against the white hot blades like butter. They began tracing an outline. On the other side, Revan could hear a series of shuffling and clicking sounds as the defenders prepared to repel the Republic boarding team. _

_When the cutting was done, Revan turned to Whoresbane and signed a question._

_++Ready?++ _

_With her silent confirmation, Revan nodded to the rest of his comrades. At the count of three, they slammed their palms against the metal with frightening strength. The door shrieked and twisted in protest before ripping off its hinges and lurching inwards. _

_The effect was as shell shocking as they planned, the explosion drawing yells of confusion from the interior's defenders. There was a sickening crunch and muffled curses as the impromptu projectile crushed a trio of soldiers in the vanguard. Even the enemy floundered like fish and tried to regain their wits, Whoresbane tossed one more present into the chaos. _

_The confused throng never had time to react as the thermo detonator went off, immolating every man and woman within the corridor in plasma. The shrieks the invaders heard were almost inhumane, their voices ringing off their ears like some fell beasts from hell._

_Fortunately, the noises made the victims easy targets. At their squad leader's signal, groups of red and black armored soldiers stormed into the breach, weapons blazing. None of the defenders managed to get a shot off before deadly crimson streaks of light melted their armor and burnt their flesh to ash. As the last cry died away, one of the Republic soldiers raised a voice over the shared comm. channel._

_"Clear," With that, the Jedi swept through the boarding gates and into the flagship's interior. Revan spared a look at their fallen enemy. Each soldier was bedecked in obsidian, the armor shiny yet black as sin. Even their helms were black, rendering them uniform and expressionless. They could all have come off an assembly line if not for their screams. Coincidentally, Whoresbane and her faceless stooges brought up the rear. She gave only the most cursory glance at her burn victims before addressing the commander._

_"All right princess, time for you to do your thing. Can you sense where he is now?" she demanded._

_The Battle Meditator eyes were already closed, attuning herself to the ebb and flow of life signs within the vicinity. After a few seconds she opened her eyes._

_"His taint saturates this cursed ship. But grows more palpable further north."_

_Revan tried to sense what the Battle Meditator was referring to, but couldn't feel anything specific. Only an intangible sort of dread. A dread that foreshadowed something horrible was going to happen. But he did hear something. It was almost like...breathing. Someone was breathing right into his ear. Yet when he turned to his side, no one was there._

_++Engines...it's just the engines.++_

_"How close?" Whoresbane pressed in an irritated voice. The Battle Meditator sniffed, as if her question for precise metrics was absurd. _

_"Close enough for us to kill."_

_"He must be expecting us by now," remarked one of her soldiers. "We've made enough ruckus to raise the dead," _

_Whorsebane shrugged."Does it matter?"_

_She pointed to a lightly armored female soldier in Callisus' squad, a scout by the looks of her. "You, give me an estimate for his whereabouts"_

_The scout looked down at her wrist where a visual schematic of the flagship was showing._

_"Okay... We've breached at level 8, sector six. According to this map, the closest compounds around a five hundred meter radius are one of the soldier's quarters, an armory and…"_

"_And?" the lieutenant pressed. _

"_Not sure. I don't think its the bridge… but it does look like some sort of command room."_

_"The traitor must be at that post then." stated the Battle Meditator. Whoresbane seemed satisfied by that._

_"Good enough. Alright, fan out. And-,"_

"_Careful lieutenant, I'm giving the orders here" cut in the Battle Meditator curtly. Before Whoresbane could give a suitably acid retort, she turned her back and said. "You all know your roles. We get in, kill the traitor, and retreat to our individual extraction points. The Jedi will lead the spearhead. Mortis and Callisus will join us while the remaining squads secure our entry points. Eliminate any hostiles you see but keep formation. And if you encounter noncombatants, stay your hand-"_

"_If anybody stays their hands, I'll chuck them out of the nearest airlock myself. Starting with you princess" interrupted Whorsebane brusquely. The Battle Meditator suddenly looked like she wanted nothing more than to take Whoresbane's advice._

"_We can't risk anyone getting away to report our position." the lieutenant continued "So anybody you see, you kill." _

_"You presume-"._

"_Save it squish lips. We don't have time to measure cock sizes. Just keep an eye on the ball and make sure he doesn't get away,"_

_The commander seethed but decided not to argue the point. Instead she issued a curt command, through grinding teeth._

"_Form up," _

_Revan and the rest of her retinue obeyed, taking the vanguard. He put himself in the front, along with five other Jedi, while the Battle Meditator took up the rear with two others. As ordered, Squads Mortis and Callisus took up auxiliary positions behind them, blasters trained straight ahead. _

_When everyone was in formation, the scout looked back at her schematic. "All right...First take the next turn on your left."_

_As the three teams marched forth, one of the defending soldiers called out. "Good luck commander,"_

_"There's no such thing," replied the Battle Meditator._

* * *

_The corridors were bathed in dark crimson, dark like the color of sin. Speakers blared intruder warnings in an endless cacophony. Like a foreign parasite, the kill teams presence had been detected in the flagship and was being treated with extreme hostility. Its internal defences were emerging in full force, encircling from all sides to remove the malignant presence. If the Republic forces were not careful, they would find themselves trapped, surrounded and killed. So Revan and his allies moved swiftly through the interior, trusting the battle meditator and their navigator to guide them to their destination. _

_In the short ten minutes since boarding, resistance had been frequent but ended in brutally short firefights. What patrols of the black clad infantry they encountered were dispatched swiftly by Whoresbane's death squad. Revan could see that the fiery firecracker and her team were definitely a cut above their Republic counterparts, as was evidenced in their technique. _

_Whereas squad Callisus always stopped and knelt to aim, Squad Mortis never broke stride. No, these lunatics actually fired while moving to gain a split second advantage against the opponent. Mobile firing was usually very inaccurate, yet more often then not, the enemy was decimated in the first wave of Mortis' attacks. Each of their shots was almost a guaranteed kill, puncturing breastplates and helmets with perfunctory ease. If stragglers managed to survive the first onslaught, they would gleefully rush over to the enemy's dying corpses and finish the job. Usually by snapping their neck or bashing their helmets in with the butt of their blasters. When the commander ordered to stop breaking formation, Whoresbane would mutter under her breath about the Jedi cockblocking her._

_Inevitably, the resistance became more coordinated deeper into the ship. During one roundabout, the infiltrators found the enemy waiting for them, heavily entrenched. Two columns of soldiers knelt side by side, with interlocked metal shields while the line behind them sighted down with their blasters. At first sight, the enemy unleashed hell. The Jedi weathered the wave with practiced swings of their lightsabers but a few stray lances hissed past to hit squad Callisus. Two of their number went down, one from a bolt to the face while the other took one in the chest plate. A smattering of glancing shots hit squad Mortis but the blaster fire could have been rainwater for all the damage it did to them. It appeared even their armor was superior._

_In retaliation, Whoresbane's men let fly with a flurry of devastation of their own. They glanced off the shielding harmlessly without even denting the formation. As Whoresbane's cursed the enemy for cowards, the battle meditator issued a new tactic._

"_Charge!" she shouted and the Jedi did. _

_Revan had heard that there are few sights more inspiring (or terrifying) than a squad of Jedi charging into melee. The sight of the charge was psychologically terrifying, their speed and size amplified in their opponents minds. It was not only the visual aspect, but the prospect of dying horribly from the most potent hand to hand weapon in the universe. _

_Shaken, the soldier's shots were rushed and many went wide of their intended target. The rest were easily swept away by the warrior's lethal blades. As the defenders fumbled for their melee weapons, the Republic speartip crashed into the first column, knocking the enemy aside like toy soldiers. Then the lightsabers began cutting through the mass of limbs and flesh like a scythe through grain. _

_A Jedi's greatest advantage was at close range, where their skill and weapons counted for so much more than their opponent's. This proved to be true when Revan cleaved through his first opponent's shield and neck cleanly, using the momentum to shear into the adjoining man's jugular. Before the pair even had time to comprehend their death, Revan had vaulted over the first column and thrust his blade deep into the helmet of the soldier standing behind them. The man was dead before he hit the floor. Revan kicked the corpse flesh away, scattering the remaining soldiers and breaking their residual line of defence. All semblance of unit cohesion died with that kick, and Revan smiled grimly as the shouting became screams of terror. The killing began in earnest. He gutted the next hapless soldier through the chest, then turned around and cleaved the barrel off a gun with backhand swipe as it was about to discharge in his face. He would have killed the wielder with another fell stroke until he heard... _

_++Breathing. Dammit, how can this be?++_

_Impossibly among all the shouts and screams, it was clearest thing in his mind. It was so disturbing that Revan stopped in mid swing. His inattention almost cost him his life as his would be victim whisked towards him with a dagger poised for his heart, screaming in terror. Revan managed to pivot at the last second, grab his thrusting arm and stab the man fluidly through the chest while he stumbled forward. _

_++Stupid.++ Revan berated himself as he tossed away his latest kill, ++Distractions like this will end my trial...and me++_

_Even as the thought came into his mind, he had to wonder just how real this could get. Could he actually die? With his psychopath of a Master, it was almost a guaranteed certainty. Although this time, the man had certainly outdone himself in the department of creative ways to get him killed. With no immediate hostiles in his reach, Revan turned and caught a glimpse of their fearless 'leader' in action._

_Contrary to Whoresbane's earlier assumption, the Battle Meditator did not shy away from the killing. She waded into melee with her entourage and gored a soldier through the ribs with a brutal thrust of her lightsaber. Then she pivoted smoothly to disarm a man (literally) who had tried to shoot one of her comrades. The commander may have even young, but she fought well and with the assuredness of a trained warrior. _

_Yet was a also a coldness to her movements, a sense of detachment that mirrored her exterior. When they had talked in the briefing, Revan could tell she was not a person that mingled well with others. Perhaps her unique ability segregated her, but it was clear that the Jedi in the cadre followed her orders because she was the council's representative, not because she inspired loyalty. Yet they were no less lethal for that fact, killing the traitorous swine with the trademark efficiency of expert swordsmen. Each swing of their blades hacked off limbs and sowed terror among the enemy. The melee became a route and the route became butchery. No quarter was given or asked for, for the Jedi could not risk any of them fleeing and reporting their position._

_As the last man fell, the Jedi looked around at their handiwork. Thirty enemy soldiers lay dead at their feet with only two allied casualties. And the Republic infantry hadn't even lifted a finger. Revan didn't fail to notice a faint tug of amusement on the Battle Meditator's face as she briefly looked back at Whoresbane. He had seen that look before. Basically, it meant 'up yours'._

"_Mortis, Callisus resume formation. And try to keep up," the Battle Meditator ordered, her tone smug from having reasserted her authority. Callisus obeyed immediately, Squad Mortis grudgingly enough. But when the commander's back was turned, Whoresbane took him aside and asked._

_"Is she always such an insufferable twat?" _

_"...I can't say. But I get the impression she doesn't make friends easily."_

_The redhead grunted in amusement. "Now that's an understatement. If the princess could kill people with her annoying personality, she'd be the damn emperor of the galaxy."_

_Revan wisely didn't reply._

* * *

_The next ten minutes were relatively bloodless and Revan had time to consider the gauntlet they were walking through. Like most starships, there was nothing remarkable about the hallways. Just dull grey hull plating, ventilation shafts and corridors supported by ribbed archways and pillars every dozen meters. Yet within these confines, Revan could almost swear that an inner malice was following them, something that seemed to seep through the cracks of the walls. He could feel the malevolent entity watching from afar, trying to thwart their progress at every corner. So despite the team's success to this point, he couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible was going to happen to them. To someone._

_++The Battle Meditator. All the warnings I've seen tell me it is connected to her.++_

_If there was a time to warn the commander, it would be now. Yet when he turned around, he was greeted by that sound again. The calm inhale and exhale of air, just beyond the tip of his senses. There's no doubt about it. They were being herded. Like cattle to the slaughter. Revan whipped his head back and forth, determined to find the culprit. _

_++ Who are you? Where are you?++ _

_"You have something to say kinsman?" The Battle Meditator asked him impatiently, annoyed that he had stopped their progress. When Revan didn't answer immediately, she swept past him with her litter in tow._

_"Unless it influences the mission, this is not a good time."_

_Whoresbane gave him a curious look but walked past him as well. Revan had no choice but to follow along. _

_Yet no sooner had they marched a hundred feet, the scout raised a hand. Everyone turned to look at their navigator. "What now?" Whoresbane asked testily, also stopping._

_"Hostiles. Approaching rapidly"_

_As she said it, Revan glanced up and saw a withering arc of lightning ripping down the hall towards them._

_Jedi and soldier scattered alike. Revan ducked, managing to avoid the attack but one of the Jedi went down and the others cried out in pain as tendrils of malevolent energy licked at their heels. _

_"Take cover!" shouted the Battle Meditator, taking her own advice and diving for the relative safety of a side archway._

_The rest followed suit. As the kill teams pressed against either side of the passage, the corridor turned into a veritable fireworks display, lightning and weapons fire spewing forth in a tide of death. _

_Peeking out from his cover, Revan could make out dozens of black clad soldiers crouched behind similar archways, peppering their position with cover fire. That in itself wasn't so surprising but standing amongst them were five figures wielding lightsabers, garbed in menacing black robes._

_++Sith.++ Revan thought darkly. As much as they expected it, their presence made the mission more complicated. Soldiers they could deal with but their dark brethren would take much more time they didn't have. As they continued to unleash hellish lightning with impunity, Mortis and Callisus returned sporadic fire. Yet for all intents and purposes, they were were pinned down._

_Revan risked a glance down. The Jedi who had taken the initial blast was writhing on the floor, in obvious pain but alive. Yet his chances of survival were quickly diminishing with the ensuing crossfire. Revan decided to risk it. As soon as he felt a lull in the barrage, he leapt to his wounded comrade's side and began dragging him out of the deathtrap. The Jedi almost made it when when a stray arc of lightning struck him in the side of the head. Another shot licked out and caught the wounded Jedi fully in the face. The man screamed as flesh was stripped from bone. Revan would have met a similar fate too if not for an armoured pair of hands that grabbed his shoulder, hauling him back to the safety of cover. Spinning around, he found Whoresbane clutching his shoulder._

_"Not so fast pretty boy. You don't get to die until I say so."_

_Revan nodded his thanks breathlessly as the Battle Meditator assessed the situation down the breach. "The traitor's acolytes." she shouted over the din. She turned to her erstwhile companions. "This path is too well guarded! We need to find a roundabout-,"_

_"Screw that," interrupted Whorsebane as the lieutenant produced a metal orb. The Battle Meditator gave the other woman an incredulous look,_

_"Are you insane? A stray bolt, and we'll be up in flames!"_

_Whoresbane's reply was equally curt "First yes. Second, stop bitching and get ready close your eyes,"_

_Before the Battle Meditator could reply, the lieutenant turned away and pointed to a pair of her own squad. In contrast to the heavy blasters, these soldiers were hefting flamers connected to bulky promethium tanks, the nozzles hissing with anticipation. _

_"You two. On my mark!"_

_They nodded and Whoresbane tossed her orb down the hallway of devastation. A nanosecond later there was suddenly brilliant skein of light and the flashbang went off. While the defenders cursed in surprise, Whoresbane's two black clad warriors stepped out from their cover and triggered their weapons. _

_Gouts of pure promethium flame spat across the breadth of the hall, engulfing soldiers and Sith warriors alike. The curses became cries of agony as holy fire reduced flesh and bone to a charred crisp. The shrieks went on unheeded as the flamers spewed forth in an merciless tide, the death company as unfeeling to the enemy's agony as their own._

_One of the traitor's acolytes came running at them aflame, shrieking like a man possessed. Whoresbane laughed and shot the deranged victim straight in the head granting him the death he desperately craved. As the final cry diminished, Revan risked a second look. The passage had become a blackened charnel heap, residual flames dancing on their victim's ruined flesh. _

_"Clear." one of the flame bearers said calmly._

_"Casualties?"_

_"One of the meat shields." replied the man, pointing casually to the Jedi Revan had tried to save. The man's head had been reduced a bleached skull with smoke still rising from his eye sockets. In other words, he wasn't getting up. _

_"Hmm, pity. I knew there was a reason I didn't lead in the vanguard."_

_Whorsebane turned back to her supposed superior and waved dramatically._

_"After you princess."_

_The battle meditator was not amused. "Keep moving," she said, utterly ignoring the other woman's gallows humor. As the Jedi shuffled forward to form their spearhead again, Revan could almost swear Whorsebane was winking at him behind her mask._

* * *

_As they continued their grim march, guards and traitor Jedi confronted them at different junctures, but these were chance encounters and not well prepared for the invading horde. The Jedi had little trouble cutting them down like the traitorous swine they were. Then there were the regular crew members, the noncombatants. Some of them turned tail and ran away at their approach. Others got on their knees and pleaded for mercy. Some even fought. It didn't matter, Whoresbane and her men killed them all. And as pious and lofty as the Battle Meditator seemed earlier, she said and did nothing because they simply didn't have the time to argue the point._

_Yet every kill was a delay. Klaxons continued to blare and the intercom buzzed continuously, announcing the attacker's most recent position. _

_Revan knew the flagship's defenders would eventually find them and smother them with sheer numbers. The noose was tightening and their window of opportunity to kill the traitor was fading. The urgency was not lost on Whoresbane._

_"How much farther?" she asked the navigator, tapping her weapon against her helmet. _

_"Not far lieutenant. Two hundred more meters through the approaching chamber and we should reach our destination." she paused for a moment then added. "If I was a betting woman, I'd expect heavy resistance."_

_"Hrnnn. You're sure he hasn't moved princess?"_

_For once, the Jedi deigned to reply professionally as they marched. "The traitor's presence is getting stronger. He is close. Very close."_

_By then, the entire troupe had reached the chamber the navigator spoke of. The Jedi huddled to either side of the gate, fully expecting a firefight the moment they breached. When everyone gave their silent assent, the Battle Meditator nodded to the scout and she reached out and pressed the activation console. The metal gates hissed open and the Jedi stormed in with weapons flashing to meet... _

_...nothing._

_The room resembled a sparring chamber of some sort. It was grey and sparse, save for some training mats and weapon cages. There were two circular gates on either side of the room that were barred shut. But the most important gate, the final one to the observation room was in front. It stood at the end of the room, elevated on a ten meter high platform, roughly twenty meters wide and supported with metal railings. Three stairways snaked up to converge onto the platform itself. _

_The Jedi didn't lower their weapons but exchanged confused looks. One started mentioning about having a bad feeling until a withering glance from the Battle Meditator shut them all up._

_Whoresbane didn't seem to like the lull either. She made silent hand gestures, directing her men to do a sweep. They obeyed with practiced efficiency, moving around the perimeter and patting the walls for traps and hidden doorways. A few minutes later, they came back and gave the all clear. Satisfied they were secure for the moment, Revan and the rest of the group walked cautiously up the set of stairs to stand before the final gate. Their technician consulted her tool and said. _

_"This is it. One hundred meters straight through this door is the observation room." she looked at the computer terminal suspended next to the gate and frowned. "This might take time to decrypt."_

_One of the Jedi tested the door with his lightsaber and found the metal impervious to its touch._

_"Must be some variation of the Vibro-blade alloy." one of the soldiers grimaced. "We'll have to take time to disarm the security protocols and-"_

_Then his head exploded._

_Everyone stared in stunned silence. The man's head had literally evaporated, the neck ending in a blackened charred heap. He wavered almost comically until floundering to the ground with a dull thunk. The noise seemed to galvanize the group. They whipped his head back the way they came. That was when Revan saw the Sith. A dozen, no a score of them had suddenly appeared at the base of the chamber, lightsabers flaring. Worse, the side doors had hissed open and through them spewed forth dozens of the ship's dark infantry. _

_Some of the Republic soldiers unleashed a blistering tirade of curses as they realized they had just fallen neatly into a trap. The kill teams had come all this way, only because the enemy had let them. And now they were stuck between a wall and two groups of enemies who were preparing to bring the hammer down. _

_The would be assassins didn't have time to berate their idiocy however as the first wave of fire and lightning fell upon them without warning. The Jedi parried the onslaught almost instinctively, deflecting the majority of weapons fire with ingrained motion. One lucky shot ricocheted against the sealed gate and struck the Callisus' squad leader as he was bellowing orders to take cover. The man fell dead but the rest of his squad ducked before the lethal fire could hit them. _

_All the while, more of the enemy flooded into the hall like a swarm of locusts, blasters flaring and spitting hate._

_"Death to the false Jedi!" they chanted. "Blood for the Dark Lord!"_

_"Well isn't this just the icing on the Rancor's ass!" Whoresbane cursed as she and her men crawled to take position behind the metal railings. She spared a moment from her tirade to shout at the navigator. _

_"You! Forget about opening that bloody gate. Seal the ones these bastards are coming from!"_

_The scout grimaced but scrambled back to the computer console. Whoresbane issued a terse command to the Jedi despite the fact that they technically fought autonomously from their army counterparts. "Cover him! And don't let those bastards on this platform!"_

_Without waiting for a reply, Whoresbane raised her blaster and pointed to the sea of black, giving one final command to her men. _

_"Butcher them!"_

_The next few minutes were the tensest in Revan's life. The enemy was literally gushing into the chamber like a black tide. They didn't even bother to seek the cover, simply determined to overrun the Republic forces through sheer numbers. The defenders fought tooth and nail, switching furiously between ranged defence and melee, trying to buy their navigator the precious seconds she needed to seal the gates. Yet the defenders had one tactical advantage: elevation. Superior height and cover gave them full vision of the battlefield. _

_The Battle Meditator worked passively, coordinating the Jedi to act as shields for the soldiers while Whoresbaher directed her subordinates into coordinated pockets of retaliation. Under her encouragement (or threats as Revan heard it), the soldiers released withering and precise curtain of crimson fire whenever they could afford to raise their heads. Dozens of the black clad fiends dropped under these volleys of punishment. Technically there was no need to aim against so many targets but they always killed the closest, frustrating the infantry's attempts to advance up the walkways. _

_Whoresbane herself was a terror to behold. Whereas her subordinates cowered behind their cover, the woman stood tall like an avatar of death while small arms fire pinged off her armor harmlessly. She brandished her sidearm with cold efficiency, felling the enemy by the dozen. Each shot ripped through the weak joints between armor, punctured eye slits and generally crippled anything that dared to come her way. All the while, a barrage of vitriol spewed out from behind her grinning mask, mocking death and dismemberment alike._

_"You call yourselves men you maggots? I shit better men than you!"_

_At one point, Revan saw an acolytes vault over the railing and swing his lightsaber in a deadly arc for her neck. Whoresbane grabbed the offending arm with her offhand, servos whining in her armor to help halt the blow. With her other hand, the woman promptly shot the offender in the groin, crippling the Sith in one cruel stroke. As the warrior howled in agony, Whoresbane snapped the wretch's neck and pitched him off the railing, scattering and wounding the attackers below. _

_It was an impressive feat but Whorsebane's didn't take time to gloat. There were simply too many people to kill. And eventually, some men managed to scale up to their position. _

_Fortunately, Whoresbane had ordered her flamers to take up positions amongst the stairs. They torched any of the soldiers or Acolytes that tried to approach their vanguard, reducing them to a smoking ruin. And with Revan and his Jedi brethren nullifying the waves of lightning and blaster fire against them, the Republic line held._

_Yet despite all their heroic endurance, the tide was slowly pushing the defenders back. One of the Jedi was killed, felled by a lucky shot that he missed which caught him through the eye. One of the flamebearers was cut down messily by a pair of Sith, who managed to climb up the right flank. They continued to hack manfully away until Revan and the Battle Meditator managed to stab them in the back. One of Whoresbane's soldiers rushed up to take up his fallen comrade's flamer, warding the black mass from taking advantage of their vulnerability._

_The line continued to hold, but no one was under the illusion they could keep up the frantic pace indefinitely. Slowly but surely the gauntlet was closing and soon they would be crushed. Whoresbane took a moment from her killing to address the most pressing question. _

_"How much longer dammit?" she fumed at the scout, who was up to her knees in tangled wires and circuits._

_"I'm working on it ma'am!" snapped the technician. Her voice was strained from the effort of dissembling the firewalls and working under such hellish conditions. _

_"Well work faster! Work like you're getting paid to do it!"_

_The scout didn't bother wasting her breath while Whoresbane whipped her head at the commander. "Any bright ideas princess? You're the leader as you like to keep reminding us"_

_The Battle Meditator had just severed a soldier by the waist, hurling both halves of the smoking ruin back into the mad abyss below. She surveyed the undying horde with a grim caste for a moment and said in a surprisingly calm voice._

_"Yes lieutenant, as a matter of fact I do."_

_"Well bully for you! Do you need me to wipe your ass before you tell me what it is!" Whoresbane replied, irritated by the woman's poise. _

_"I am going to meditate." And with that, the Battle Meditator knelt. _

_"Are you freaking kidding me?" the redhead fumed. "Do you have any damn sense of priority, you prancing, two bit hack-"_

_Then disaster struck. As the Jedi on Whoresbane's left flank were repelling their dark brethren, _

_Revan saw a wild swing from their lightsaber cut the fuse on the flamer's promethium cannister. His eyes widened in alarm as the fuselage started hissing and volatile gas began leaking out of the tube. _

_"Lieutenant!" he yelled, pointing at the leaking wound. Whoresbane and her men turned and saw the approaching disaster. "Take it off!" the lieutenant shrieked, which would have sounded hilarious in any other context._

_The soldier bearing the weapon tried to unstrap his burden and hurl the weapon away before it went critical. But an enemy soldier took advantage of his inattention and shot him in the head. The flamer collapsed on the floor dead even as the hissing grew louder. Whorebane cursed at this turn of events. Then the woman did something heroic and stupid. She scrambled to the flamers side in a last ditch effort to try and avert the disaster. _

_But then it happened. _

_A gigantic fireball erupted from behind his back, blanketing everyone within in a ten meter radius in flame. Whoresbane disappeared within the flames. The Jedi and Sith fighting in the vicinity were immolated as well. They screamed and thrashed in agony as skin and flesh was reduced to a crisp. Men and women alike were tossed aside by the catastrophic shockwave. Revan was also thrown off his feet, temporarily stunned._

_As he sat up rubbing his head, the Jedi noticed to his dismay that nothing of the defenders on left flank remained except charred offal. Worse, the left flank was suddenly exposed. More dark robed warriors were now charging up the stairs, eager to prey on this change of fortune. The defenders were now wedged from two sides and soon they would be overrun. Revan staggered to his feet, intent on meeting them head-on until he noticed one of Callisus' fallen soldiers stirring. _

_In his hands were two thermo detonators. _

_Revan realized his intent and shouted out for the man to stop._

_"Death before dishonor!" shouted the wounded man. With a roar of hate, he propped himself up the railing and staggered to the stairs, bellowing challenges and curses. Arcs of red lightning and blaster fire ripped through her armor, but amazingly he did not fall. With a final cry, he leapt into the sea of black clad warriors. For a moment his body was hidden among the tide of flesh. _

_Then he exploded in his own gigantic plume of plasma and death. _

_Scores of the invading warriors were incinerated immediately by the heat of the miniature sun. Even from his distance, Revan felt the heat of the blast intimately. Their cries lasted a few moments only to be abruptly cut off as their vocal chords burnt to nothing. _

_As the flare diminished, all that remained of the soldier and the enemies around him was ashes and smoke. Revan grimaced. It was an awesome display of heroism and defiance against an unstoppable horde but useless in the end. The enemy was stunned momentarily but then they renewed their furious assault, bolstered by the seemingly endless horde of reinforcements still spewing from the gates. _

_Revan suddenly found himself desperately holding off three Sith warriors, his lightsaber a blue blur against their red hate. He parried a thrust then ducked a second slash immediately only to receive a gash on his abdomen as the third warrior lunged forward in a brazen attack. Snarling in pain, Revan grabbed the offending man's thrusting arm and locked it under his armpit. As the acolyte tried to tug away, the Jedi slashed at his neck savagely, separating the masked man's head from is shoulders. He dropped the corpse just in time as a red blade came screaming to split his skull. Revan blocked the blow, and heaved the stumbling man back. He was prepared to gore the wretch when he heard the sound again. _

_Breathing._

_Maddeningly close, right next to him..._

_He whipped his head to the side. And for a split second he saw something. A silhouette...a suggestion of a shadow. Someone garbed black all over... a masked face..._

_Then a red blossom of pain flared from the back of his leg. One of the Sith had taken advantage of Revan's inattention and slipped around his guard. The Jedi shouted in agony and denial while falling to one knee. Panting raggedly he looked up to see the remaining two cowled warriors glaring down at him with murderous black eyes. One of them raised his blade._

_++This is it...I've failed.++_

_He wanted to curse himself for letting him get distracted again, but realized it wouldn't change anything. Yet, Revan didn't flinch away, determined to stare death in the face as it came for him. _

_The sword came flashing down..._

_...and suddenly the world around him seemed to stop. _

_He could suddenly hear the sound own heartbeat over the din of the roaring fire. Sights, sounds and reality itself seemed to congeal into a perfect sphere of clarity. A surge of adrenaline coursed through Revan's body and suddenly his pain seemed a distant thing. _

_Then he remembered the blade in front of him. The weapon was moving agonizingly slow, like it was caught in a web. It was the easiest thing for to Revan dance away from the attack before answering with a savage counter to the attack's chest. The Sith seemed surprised as his heart literally exploded from the superheated blade. Revan turned around and found the other warrior swinging at him sluggishly with an overhead slash. He batted the flimsy attack away and pirouetted to deliver a devastating blow to his neck. The head separated as easily as cutting hot butter, disappearing into the black throng below. Then the rest of the body slumped._

_Revan stared at the victim's headless corpse in amazement. His every movement had felt as light as a feather, every stroke as effortless as breathing._

_+Where is this power coming from?++_

_He risked a quick look behind him and learned the truth. Amid the chaos, the Battle Meditator continued kneeling as if in contemplation, eyes closed with a furrowed brow. He could sense waves of pulsating energy emanating from her prone form reaching out to touch everyone within the scene of battle. Like Revan, the waves blessed his allies with renewed vigor, washing away their fear and lethargy. In contrast, the traitor Jedi and soldiers seemed to have lost the will to fight. They hesitated between strokes, leaving them wide open to counterattacks and return fire. _

_And counter they did. Armed with their newfound reservoir of strength, the Jedi began culling the attackers in earnest while they staggered to the platform. As the black tide reeled from the sudden change, Revan barrelled headlong into the black tide swarming through their vanguard. He smashed his first opponent's face in with his hilt, the blow breaking off bits of cartilage that ripped into his brain. Another acolyte tried to scorch him with a volley of lightning but the Jedi ducked deftly from the attack and gored him through the throat. The man gurgled, clawing at the fatal wound and the Jedi took this chance to grab his offending arm and redirect the insidious energy towards the enemy. Dozens howled in agony as their armor melted and fused with their skin before finally succumbing to death. Then Revan's prisoner died and more warriors surrounded him._

_He didn't care. Revan had never felt so alive and he made them pay for every wound they inflicted. He danced and weaved around the enemy's reach, always three steps on front of them. The Jedi was a veritable bastian of death, every stroke severing limbs and heads with almost callous abandon. He killed with the trademark efficiency wrought from the most brutal training regime known in the galaxy. He killed his body had been conditioned to do nothing less._

_Despite his speed, an acolyte managed to tackle him from behind and wrestle him to the floor. The warrior seemed intent on smothering him while he chanted his mantra of hatred _

_"Death to the false Jedi! Dea-mphh!"_

_Revan clamped the offender by the mouth and rolled on top of him with surprising ease. The victim bit into his hand, but the pain felt like a distant thing as he speared the man's chest with is blade. The victim shuddered and for a moment, Revan's eyes locked with his. He ripped the cowl away and caught a good look at the enemy. The man's skin was pallid and grey like a corpse, with sickly veins bulging from beneath the skin. Perhaps he had been handsome once but like all who followed the Sith to damnation, his hate had twisted his body into a mockery of its once noble self._

_"D-death...death to the...Jedi" _

_"Not today traitor," whispered Revan._

_As the last embers of life die away from the man's eyes, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Snarling, he instinctively whirled around to behead the aggressor._

_"Whoa! Hey!" _

_Revan eyes focused at the last moment realized it was the scout. He managed to pull the swing at the last moment, the blade milimeters from the woman's face. The sight of the soldier cowering away from his lightsaber calmed his heightened senses, and he withdrew his weapon. _

_"Sorry, are you okay?"_

_The soldier nodded tremulously, although in truth it looked like she had soiled herself._

_"Its over," she said "we got them all."_

_Revan could see that for himself. Somewhere between his murderous counter rampage, the technician had managed to seal the doors and bar further intruders. Those that were trapped in had been culled by the Jedi. Distantly, they could hear the curses and screams of the horde outside, desperate to claw their way in. But for all intents and purposes, the training hall was sealed. They were safe...for now. He gave the soldier another nod and apology before trudging back up the stairs._

_++That was too close...++. Revan thought as the adrenaline slowly seep away. The power imbued by the Battle Meditation was transcendent, but it also removed his inhibition. The Jedi vowed not to let himself get caught up in the emotion again._

_Revan looked around at the other Jedi's faces. They looked shellshocked, almost like they couldn't believe they had survived the onslaught. Most surrounded the Battle Meditator and offered their thanks, although she barely seemed to hear it. _

_++She looks like half a corpse as well.++ . _

_Of the twenty odd men and women that had braved the gauntlet, less than ten remained standing. Only five soldiers remained, four from the death company and the Callisus' scout. _

_What was left of squad Mortis surrounded their fallen leader looking concerned. One of them had turned her wrist over and removed her gauntlet to look for a pulse. _

_"How is she?" asked Revan walking over and kneeling down to inspect the damage. By all rights, Whoresbane should have been a smear on the ground. Yet aside from some burn marks and a distinct smell of scorched hair, the foul mouthed lieutenant seemed in one piece. It seemed the armor had weathered the explosion from the explosion. _

_"She'll live," replied her subordinate curtly, much to the Jedi's relief. He had known her for less than an hour but somehow had grown fond of the trash talking woman. As the rest of Revan's brethren approached them, the soldier cradling Whorsebane's hand addressed the Battle Meditator._

_"Jedi, we will hold this position and fend off reinforcements for as long as possible." He pointed to the final gate that the scout had opened. "Get in there and finish the bastard off. If you die without completing the mission objective, your death with be a jolly lark compared to what our lieutenant will do to you in the afterlife."_

_The Battle Meditator gave a weary nod, the closest she had given to thanks at this point. She turned to her men. _

_"We go to kill the traitor then. Steel yourselves,"_

_The Jedi began marching back to the gate but stopped when they saw one of their own lingering. The Battle Meditator looked at Revan impatiently as he spared Whoresbane and her men a final look._

_"Force be with you," The Jedi said solemnly. _

_"That would be nice. Oh right, one more thing." The man took something from Whoresbane's belt and tossed it at Revan. He caught the item and looked at it curiously. It looked like some sort of dagger, but the weight felt wrong. And it was bulky, with some sort of power mechanism attached to the hilt._

_"The boss was going to use this to kill the traitor. But I guess you'll have to do it for her. It's called the Devil's Little Helper." _

_"She wants me to kill a man with this...toothpick?"_

_The man shrugged._

_"Intelligence says that the traitor is protected with supposedly impenetrable armor. Beyond anything the Republic has seen. Chances are, your fancy glowsticks won't do shit against it. So the boss got this item made just for him. When its activated, the blade carries enough current to kill a Rancor. Hell, it could overload a starship if you fed it in the right places. Never, ever touch the blade when the damn thing is on unless you want to be one with the Force if you know what I mean. But seriously, if doesn't kill the bastard, I don't know what will."_

_Revan looked at the item with renewed trepidation. "I guess I'll have to thank her after she wakes up."_

_"Thank her by doing your duty. Now stop stalling and go kill that thrice cursed bastard" With that, the other man turned away._

_Revan nodded and stood up slowly to join his brethren. The Jedi looked at each other meaningfully before staring at the yawning abyss beyond. This was it. One way or the other, this would end now. With the traitor's death or theirs. Revan was determined that it be the former's. He had come too far to fail his trial now. _

_He looked to the Battle Meditator, thinking she would say something inspiring. The woman looked uncomfortable, as if inspiring others with words was a foreign concept. _

_"Today is a great day." she said eventually. "Because today, we restore our Order's honor."_

_She gave each of her comrades a measuring look. _

_"I know what you are all thinking, for I share the exact same thoughts. How can we prevail against a man who had single handily brought ruin every man and woman who has every crossed his path? A man who was the best of us...and the worst of us as well. Well, I'll tell you how. Because as powerful and cunning as the traitor might be, he is a faithless deviant. And we, we the true sons and daughters of the Order have the greatest weapon of all. I talk not of your fighting prowess, but of the conviction that what you do today is right. We are the righteous crusaders of the Republic. Armored in the faith of our cause and the wisdom in the Jedi Masters."_

_Her comrades stared at her in rapt attention, clinging to every word. Revan was moved as well...until she said the last part._

_"Perhaps the traitor is too powerful. Perhaps we are walking to our deaths. But I swear to you that we will hurt him. We will hurt him so bad, that our Order, the Republic itself will hear his pain. And they will know we died defending them. That we died doing our duty." _

_In the end, she extending her hand._

_"For the Jedi," she said solemnly. Revan nodded and reached out to clasp it,_

_"For the Republic," he answered. As the remaining three placed their hands on top of theirs, they intoned the final words._

_"For its people,"_

_Then as one, they turned and marched into the darkness, determined to face whatever fate threw at them. _

_And all along the way, Revan could hear breathing._


	31. Chapter 31 The Black Dream  Finale

_Did you really think it would be that easy?_

_-unattributed source_

* * *

_The final tunnel to the command room was ten meters wide and sparsely lit. Leering lights flickering ominously from every bulkhead, casting menacing shadows. The putrid air was a thick miasma of pollutants and malignant intent, clinging heavily around the assassins like dead skin. Even without the heightened senses of a Jedi, one could tell that something dark and twisted lay within this sanctum. _

_The survivors from the massacre consisted of Revan, the Battle Meditator, a Twi'lek and two more human Jedi. They stalked forward with measured steps, expecting death to erupt around them at any moment. Yet, nothing came forth as they reach the gate, the final barrier between them and their mission objective. The Battle Meditator looked at the metal barrier appraisingly._

_"No controls." she signed. "Prepare to-"_

_Yet even as she said the words, the doors slid open with a hiss. Everyone looked up in surprise to the newly exposed room. Its walls were clear, revealing the climatic battle being fought between the Sith and remaining Republic forces. Hugh torrents of fireworks flashed before their eyes, the afterglow from a hundreds of cannons that continually unleashed its destructive payloads. Many of the Republic and enemy vessels were aflame, with more were dying every moment in fiery explosions. Yet, despite the carnage beyond, the room was quiet, a tiny oasis within the storm. _

_And at the very centre stood a man, staring out at the orgy of death he had created. _

_"There he is!" the Battle Meditator shouted, "Faithless scum!"_

_Even as she said it, two hooded figures appeared from either corner of the quiet room to impose themselves right in front of the Jedi and their target. Revan whipped his head back down the corridor as he heard more lightsabers ignite. Four new figures solidified from the murkiness, bathed in the blood red tinge of their weapons. And one of them was huge. _

_++By the Force, what is that thing?++_

_Naked from the waste up, he was a freakish brute of a man with bulging muscles and ritual scars cut across his chest. Its lightsaber resembled a puny toy in the things massive hands. The face looked like it had been smashed in with a sledgehammer, with two beady red eyes that glared hatefully through the ruined pulpy flesh. Worst of all, he smelled like a cesspool. Revan wondered what dark science these Sith had used to create such a monstrosity. He fancied that if ever a human managed to crossbreed with a Rancor, it would look something like this freak._

_++Only Rancors are better looking, and have better hygiene.++_

_With these arrivals, Jedi suddenly found themselves cut off from both sides. As the newcomers converged, the Twi'lek turned and ignited his own weapon to meet the threat behind them._

_"Go commander! I will hold these ones off!" he shouted. The Battle Meditator nodded curtly and looked towards Revan _

_"Help him. The rest of you, follow me"_

_++If you fight alone, you die alone.++_

_Revan didn't have to time to argue the point as she charged through the door with her other comrades. Then chaos erupted._

_"Death to the false Jedi!" _

_The war cry triggered a flurry of motion as the first wave of attackers charged towards the bottleneck. Revan found himself on his heels almost immediately as one of the smaller warriors bounded up towards him in a blink of an eye, weapon raised. He blocked the first downward strike, then the next trio of them in rapid succession. On the fifth slash, Revan broke rhythm and ducked the overhand swing to cut into his opponent's guard. He sprung up with an aggressive uppercut slash of his own, forcing his opponent's sword wide and putting him off balance. The Jedi stepped into the opening and prepared to gut his reeling opponent...until he disappeared with a yell._

_Revan blinked and realized the man had been thrown away by the freakishly huge Sith warrior for blocking its way. The thing roared an incoherent war cry and swung his own lightsaber down in a lumbering downswing, forcing Revan to block._

_The giant was just as freakishly strong as his size threatened. Revan teeth chattered as he felt his arms go numb at the first jarring contact. The next sweeping blow broke through his guard, and the Jedi almost tumbled to the floor. Luckily, he caught a railing to steady himself before leaping away from another deathblow. The attack sheared through the bulkhead to reveal the pipelines behind. The Jedi did a little dance, choosing to avoid the herculean swipes rather than lose a limb parrying. _

_++He swings at me like he's trying to chop wood.++ Revan thought between leaps._

_The monster's technique was hardly perfect, often leaving itself wide open to attacks. But it was also fast enough to compensate before Revan could counter. Growing frustrated by the slippery target, the huge monster barrelled in, intent on crushing him with his sheer mass. Revan evaded the frontal dive, letting the brute crunch headlong into the bulkhead. There was a crack and the monster hobbled back stunned. The Jedi danced back into its guard in an attempt to gore its freakish chest. He never got close as the Sith swung out in instinctive anger, clipping the Jedi with one of his massive arms. The force of the blow propelled Revan several meters down the corridor before skidding to a stop. _

_As the Jedi groaned shaking his head, he realized that he had lost is grip on his weapon. Before he could look for it, the smaller warrior he had almost impaled step up towards him, lining up for a decapitation._

_"Blood for the Dark Lord!"_

_Revan lunged out and caught the blade in the upswing. He held the sword in a desperate gridlock while his opponent hissed and tried to inch the blade forward. While they wrestled, the monster behind them had regained some of his composure and was stalking up behind them. He growled wordlessly and stretched out his blade to bisect the struggling Jedi in half. Sensing the imminent strike, Revan thrust his face into his opponent's. There was an audible crack of bone and the Sith reeled back, clutching his face. No longer restrained, Revan ducked at the last moment just as the brute' massive arms came swishing past in an executioner's swing. _

_The horrible mutant thing missed Revan's head by a hair's width, but succeeded in cleaving straight through his erstwhile companion's neck. The head flew off and squelched into a dark corner. That only enraged it more. The monster flung the corpse flesh away with a curse and brought its weapon down with another massive swing. With no space to manoeuvre, Revan knelt and brought his arms in an X cross to block the arms. The force of impact slammed him solidly on the ground again. Revan vision blurred as his head crashed into the floor panels, but as he blinked the white spots away, he noticed a metallic object within reach..._

_The monster roared in triumph, thinking his opponent was defeated and swung down. Just as he was about to split the puny man in half, Revan sprung away from the lethal blow like a viper. He grabbed his lightsaber before pivoting and stabbing it deep into monster's calf. White hot energy seared through bone and flesh and the giant staggered to one knee, roaring in agony. He swung his massive arms again but Revan, ducked and stepped in with a brutal backhand cut. The brute's ugly head toppled off its shoulders and came to rest with his victim._

_Having rid himself of his own enemies, Revan looked up to see how his ally was doing. The Twi'lek Jedi had managed to kill one of his attackers but he had been beaten to the floor by his surviving opponent. Somewhere during the melee, the savage warrior had removed the alien's offhand. Right now the Twi'lek was raising his stump in feeble defiance just as his enemy was prepared to take off his head. But before the dark warrior could swing, a massive glowing blade erupted through his chest. The Sith vomited black bile before crumpling on the floor dead._

_Revan turned back to his wounded ally._

_"Can you still fight? We need to help them."_

_The Twi'lek nodded through gritted teeth. Revan got him up on wobbly legs and together, they entered the room._

* * *

_The pair emerged just in time to see the climatic ending of the battle. The Battle Meditator had stepped over her victim's corpse and pointed at the lone spectre with her weapon, shouting some sort of challenge. In response, the man drew his lightsaber with a flourish and waited for them to attack. At that moment, Revan had a good chance to look at the traitor he had come all this way to kill._

_Physically, there wasn't much remarkable about him if truth be told. Of middling height and build, the man could have passed for an obsidian statue if not for his distinct apparel. Hell Revan couldn't even tell if it really was a man. The chest plate was bulky and gave no hint of the person's gender while a dark cape was interwoven over obsidian armor, accentuating the aura of mystery. Neither did Revan sense anything particularly menacing...or anything from their target at all. It was like the person was a blank, a shell that had been placed there for their inspection._

_Then there was the mask, a piece of obsidian that had a bloody tear down the middle. It was clearly of Mandalorian design, which seemed out of place among his menacing garment. What would a Sith Lord need with such a...curiosity? And why was he basically alone? Vulnerable?_

_++Somethings not right. This...something isn't what it seems to be.++_

_This had to be a trap. But before Revan had no time to consider his misgivings, the three Jedi began converging as one against the lone warrior. _

_++No wait!++_

_Then the room exploded._

* * *

_A veritable storm of sparks erupted from the back of the traitor as a massive cannon shot impacted against the glass barrier. Revan, along with everyone else in the vicinity was thrown off their feet shouting in surprise, as the entire ship shuddered in pain. Smoke filled his nostrils as floorboard circuits and side panels overloaded and exploded. Revan was momentarily blinded from the flaring light, but he could hear the continuous pounding of cannon fire, pounding at them like a hammer on iron. Worst of all, he could feel the floor rumbling and tearing as the entire ship threatened to rip apart. Revan honestly thought they were going to die in a fiery explosion...but then, the shaking stopped. _

_Rubbing the after burn from his eyes, Revan realized that a shimmering barrier had appeared around the ship and was now weathering the blistering tidal wave of death slamming against it._

_++Reinforced shields. I suppose I should be grateful someone was paranoid enough to equip this cursed ship with them++_

_Luckily for them, the masked entity had taken the majority of the impact from the blast and was sprawled limply on the cold black floor, smoke rising from his cape. Every Jedi looked around like stunned Bantha while the Battle Meditator knelt beside him and checked for signs of life. As Revan approached his comrades from the side, one of them asked._

_"What-what's happening? Was that our fleet?"_

_"No it's the Leviathan." exclaimed the other. He pointed to the ship in the void which looked nearly as large as the one they were on. Currently, it was leading many of its smaller brethren in pummelling their hull, although some of the cruisers were firing back at them. _

_"It-they're attacking their own leader's ship!"_

_"What? Why?"_

_++Because this is exactly what they wanted...to kill their erstwhile leader while he is most vulnerable++. Revan thought grimly. ++The council didn't lie.++_

_He should have realized that this was the time the traitor's treacherous brethren would attack, when their supposed leader would be most distracted dealing with the invaders. And attack they did. The walls glowed red with its incandescent hate, yet the flagship's defences held. Even now, it own cannons were directed in a countersurge against its traitorous brethren. Before anyone could make sense of these turn of events, the Battle Meditator stood up and looked at them with a look of wonderment. _

_"He's dead...the traitor is dead." She announced in an awed voice, almost as if she couldn't believe it himself. There was a murmur of disbelief._

_"He was betrayed at the exact moment we tried to strike?" The Twi'lek looked at his comrades incredulously. "That must be more than coincidence. What madness is this?"_

_"Not madness, justice." their leader stated. She pointed to the broken corpse._

_"Behold the fate of turn cloaks. They fought with treachery. And now they die by treachery,"_

_The warriors seemed to accept that. Their expressions turned to one of relief at the death of the traitor. Revan however, didn't share in their frivolities. _

_++If the threat is over, then why do I still feel so...disquieted?++_

_And suddenly, he heard it again. Breathing._

_Before he could understand the significance, another violent shudder rippled through the ship, reminding everyone how precarious their situation still was. The Jedi closest to the Battle Meditator caught her shoulder. _

_"Commander, we need to extract you now. The Order must be informed that we have visual confirmation of his death. And of these developments."_

_"Wait, we need to search this-"_

_"There's no time for that commander," said the other man to her left urgently. "With these traitors turning on each other like carrion birds, we need to leave before they tear this ship to pieces."_

_She nodded reluctantly, stepping away from the corpse and turning back._

_"Very well. We will regroup with the remaining survivors and-"_

_The woman stopped in mid sentence with a look of shock on her normally stoic face. Everyone turned around, wondering what she had saw. There was a collective gasp. Revan's eyes widened as he finally realized who had been breathing all this time._

_Behind them stood a lone figure. _

_He had arrived silently, or perhaps he had been here the whole time. Watching them. Observing them. That wasn't so surprising in itself, but what truly unnerved them was his appearance._

_"No...it can't be" whispered the Battle Meditator._

_The newcomer looked...exactly like the dead traitor._

_++How...?++_

_Every detail, from the black red mask, the gauntlets, robes and the armor. An exact simulacrum of the man they had been sent to kill..._

_Revan remembered back in the meeting when the soldier said that the traitor never seemed to stay dead. And now he knew why._

_++Decoys.++_

_It was such a perfect yet simple explanation. By staying masked, and androgynous in appearance, the traitor effectively became an unknowable entity. Like the faceless soldiers of this blighted vessel, even their leader seemed to be a replicae of some template. Who could really confirm or deny whether it was really the same person under that disguise? If he really did die, one could simply take the clothes and claim the same mantle. _

_++ Did he know about the treachery? Force take me, is this man even the real leader? ++_

_One of the human Jedi finally broke the stunned trance._

_"Traitor! Enough of your tricks!" he shouted, bounding forward. _

_"Wait you fool!" shouted the Battle Meditator, reaching out to grab him. _

_Too late. The Jedi stared with a mixture of awe and horror as their comrade charged in foolishly, bellowing war cries... only to come apart in a viscera of gore and smoking meat. It happened so fast, Revan couldn't even follow the individual sword strokes. One moment he was closing in on the shadowy figure, lightsaber held high. The next, three horizontal slashes of light had bisected him into chunks of carrion bait. As he died, a shower of blood splattered into the Jedi's faces, like tears from a crimson harvest._

_++How...how did he do that?++_

_The individual pieces of the former man squelched across the floor like some macabre, broken toy. Nobody dared to look at the corpse though. All eyes were focused on the death spectre as he raised his blade and pointed it straight at the Battle Meditator. The message was clear._

_++You. You are next.++_

_The other three scrambled hastily in front of their leader. _

_"Commander," hissed the Twi'lek, tugging at her shoulder. "You can't stay. We will hold him off. Leave now, before the ship-"_

_"I will not leave," interrupted the Battle Meditator, shoving her allies aside. "The attempt must be made. We either kill the traitor or bring him down with this ship. Now prepare yourselves"_

_Her tone brooked no argument, and in this place her words were law. With grim determination, every Jedi ignited their weapons and crouched low for the ensuring battle. The masked man said nothing as he also crouched and put himself in the exact same fighting stance as his imposter. For many moments, everyone stood as still as statues, looking and gauging each others fighting stance. All the while, the floor shook with the seismic tremors from the titanic battle that raged within the void beyond. Sensing that time was against them, the Battle Meditator leapt forward and attacked. Her allies followed suit._

_But even as her first blow fell, Revan realized the breathing in the back of his head was replaced by a voice._

_++Did you really think it was going to be that easy?++_

* * *

_In the ensuing battle, no normal living creature could possibly appreciate the ferocity, the sheer purity of ability from each combatant. No, all they would have seen was a whirlwind of neon lights, intertwined with the black nightmare of an intangible wraith._

_The Jedi surrounded the traitor from all sides, four blades dancing in unison against the traitor's one. Revan and his allies represented the brightest and best the Order had to offer, veterans, prodigies and master swordsmen. By all rights, they should have won handily. _

_Should have._

_The traitor met all their attacks with superhuman speed and skill. If not for Revan's heightened senses, he would not have been able to follow the enemy's movements at all. One of the human Jedi swung straight at his midriff, but the dark robed warrior arched his back parallel to the floor and let the blade whisk harmlessly by. He straightened immediately to deflect two frontal strikes in rapid succession from the Battle Meditator before swinging his blade behind his back, narrowly turning away Revan's attempt to backstab him. Then the Twi'lek dove forward, hoping to score a hit while he was engaged, but the man somersaulted away effortlessly. In mid spin, his crimson blade came arcing down in a murderous slash at the mass of heads below, forcing the combatants to scatter like a startled herd. Then without breaking rythym, the traitor landed nimbly on both feet and continued to fight like a man possessed._

_And so the dance went. The black spectre moved in perfect lockstep with his enemies, always shifting just the right amount to land a perfect block or swing of the blade. During one point the traitor managed to simultaneously parry the Battle Meditator in mid thrust and trip her with an outstretched boot. She almost inadvertently gored Revan through the chest as the cloaked spectre pushed her stumbling form in his direction. The Jedi only managed to avoid the embarrassing death by deflecting the blade wide at the last moment but not before they crashed into an undignified heap. Both of them cursed and spent several desperate moments untangling themselves before leaping back into melee to prevent their comrades from being overwhelmed._

_Even as fought, Revan had to admit there was something truly awe inspiring in watching the traitor's movements. The man did not so much fight as he did lead them in a furious dance of swordplay. His bladework was exquisite, rapping off five, six-seven times in rapid succession, always in position to deflect against the multitude of attacks assaulting him. Truly, the traitor's movements verged on precognition, always ready to intercept a strike or dodge the latest flanking attack. Revan doubted even the Jedi Masters could have matched the traitor's skill right now, at the zenith of his power. His attacks were perfect, effortless in their execution. _

_Terrifying, powerful and yet somehow familiar… _

_So despite their numerical superiority, the power struggle was hanging precariously by a thread, with neither side truly gaining an advantage. But Revan could see the balance shifting as the edges of strain became apparent on his ally's faces. Their concentration was fraying from maintaing the furious tempo yet the traitor showed no signs of weariness. In fact, he only seemed to gain momentum with each block and counterstrike. It was like the man was just warming up, a terrible prospect in itself. And that was when Revan knew it was just a matter of time. A time before someone made the slightest misstep, a lapse in concentration..._

_The first kill happened so fast, Revan thought it was a figment of his imagination. During their furious melee, one of the humans attempted a slash at the traitor while his back was turned. The black clad figure pivoted to sidestep the strike as it whistled past his shoulder, but not before launching a bright red counterslash against his opponent's chest. The exchange was literally nanoseconds apart and Revan couldn't even be sure if either lightsaber had landed since both continued fighting like nothing was amiss. But after another flurry of strikes and parries, the Jedi clutched his heart and let out a ragged cry of pain. _

_For a moment, the fighting stopped and every man and woman looked at the screamer in alarm as he suddenly collapsed in a broken heap. Then they saw the black simmering hole smoking from his chest. _

_The traitor's first strike had hit. Fatally. _

_With a wordless cry of rage, the remaining three renewed their furious tempo. The Twi'lek leapt forward first with a series of frontal slashes. They were parried smoothly before the traitor turned to meet Revan's attack from behind. This time though, the man didn't simply block. He flicked his lightsaber at the opponent's blade so it went spinning on its axis. The lightsaber whirled to the right of Revan's swing while the traitor spun to the left. Man and weapon met back at the center both unscathed as their target charged past in the middle. Revan was momentarily disoriented at the two pronged feint and he proved to be one step too slow, turning just as the enemy lashed out to score a livid gash just above the eye. _

_The Jedi recoiled in pain, covering his singed face. Never missing a beat, the traitor whirled just in time to meet both the Twi'lek and Battle Meditator's thrusting blades in a cross down parry while neatly catching Revan with a roundhouse kick to the abdomen as he staggered._

_It was almost a casual hit, but the Jedi found himself vaulting clear off the floor to crunch deep into a bulkhead. The force of the impact actually severed the plating and fell on top of his prone form with a thunk. Bruised and bloody, Revan twitched for a few moment before lying still. _

_As the remaining pair gaped at the enemy's terrifying display of strength, the traitor unleashed death in the form of lightning. The Battle Meditator flung herself to the side but the Twi'lek was hampered from his wounds and took the blast in all its horrible glory. The attack saturated the Twi'lek in a eerie red glow, the malevolent energy like a tear in the fabric of reality. _

_And the alien screamed. _

_His skin blackened and curled like burning parchment. The howl became an endless drone of agony as white hot energy stripped flesh to reveal charred bone. When it was done, the traitor lifted the carcass for a momentary inspection before flinging the burnt thing off its feet to join the rest of the discarded pile of broken bones and meat._

_Then there was only one. _

_The Battle Meditator was alone then, whittled down to the last by the malignant blackguard. The woman knew she was outmatched and likely to die a horrible death but she charged anyways. _

_Her first thrust was dodged with almost contemptuous ease, as was her upward follow through slash. The man casually weaved in and out of her attacks like a intangible spirit, the orange blade always swishing dangerously close but never making contact. The Battle Meditator's face began to flush with effort and anger as she tried fruitlessly to land a hit. Distantly, Revan groaned in pain but couldn't find the strength to lift the deadweight off his body and help the Battle Meditator. With his vision fading, he could only make out the most general outlines of the commander as she made her suicidal attack. But he did know that she wasn't going to win._

_++Get up++ he told himself. ++if she dies, everything will be for naught.++ With that damning thought, Revan grunted and renewed his efforts to extricate the metal from his chest._

_Perhaps tiring of the sport, the traitor caught the Battle Meditator's wrist as she made a downward swing. Then he deftly contorted his body so she rolled over his armored form, slamming the commander straight into the ground with a casual flick of his own hand. _

_There was an audible crunch and Battle Meditator choked out in pain. As she lay stunned, the masked warrior gave a final twist and her lightsaber fell from nerveless fingers with a clatter._

_Then there was none._

_With deliberate slowness, the traitor crushed the weapon under his foot, a vivid symbol for his complete victory. Still holding his trophy by the wrist, the man hauled the Battle Meditator to eye level. The female railed defiantly and punched him in the mask with her one free hand, but that only seemed to do more damage to her fist. _

_"Turncloak filth! Kill me if you want, but the Jedi will never submit to the likes of you! Never!"_

_The traitor said nothing. He simply regarded her curiously through his black slit, like he was observing a particularly fascinating specimen. _

_Then slowly, he reached out with his left hand for her face._

_The Battle Meditator recoiled from his touch but it was useless. His metal fingers found purchase around the skull and the commander's eyes widened in fear. For a moment, nothing happened as the Battle Meditator stared at her captor in loathing. _

_Then she started screaming._

* * *

_The piercing sound jolted Revan from his semi conscious state. His eyes focused on the image of the traitor gripping the commander's skull in a vice. The warrior's metal fingers had embedded deep into her face like some malignant parasite. Worse, his victim's eyes had rolled into the back of her head and her face was contorted in the most agonizing expression he had ever seen. What the vile man was doing, Revan didn't know but if the commander's cries were anything to go by, she wouldn't last much longer. If he didn't act now, then everything they had fought for until this point would be in vain._

_With one more growl of pain, he heaved the scrap metal from his chest and let it fall to the side with a dull thud. Revan fumbled around until he felt his fingers curl on the reassuring metal grip of a lightsaber. He wasn't even sure if it was his. All he cared about was his target. The Jedi got up shakily to his feet._

_The traitor was so preoccupied in his task that he didn't sense Revan creeping up behind him like a shadow. Or so he thought. Just as the Jedi thrust his lightsaber between the traitor's shoulders, his target turned and caught his wrist with the palm of his hand. The tip of the lightsaber burned precariously close to the mask but didn't penetrate. Revan gritted his teeth and tried to push the lethal blade forward but the weapon didn't even shake, so firm was the grip. Then the black clad warrior dropped the Battle Meditator like a discarded doll and punched Revan with an armored gauntlet. _

_The Jedi felt himself flying again, this time to crash into the transparent viewport separating him from the orbital carnage beyond. He didn't have time to catch his breath though as the enemy was upon him, quick as death. Revan blocked the first attack then the next almost by chance, his blade rattling against the lightning quick overhand strikes in rapid succession. The third strike he dodged with a hastily executed side roll, but still grimaced in pain as the tip of the blade singed his arm. Revan got up from the roll, pivoted sharply and launched an assault of his own. His first slash was swiped away disdainfully, the next caught air as did his follow through attack. Revan then feinted with a upward swipe before converting it to a lunging thrust. This time he almost hit the traitor's face only to be blocked at the last moment. The Jedi continued undeterred, using every attack combination in his arsenal, every feint ingrained into his muscle memory. _

_It didn't matter. Every stroke was answered with a perfect parry, every counter neutralized by one of the traitor's own. It seemed impossible, but his opponent appeared to know his own maneuvers better than he did, like he was fighting against a mirror. _

_++Only the mirror is faster and stronger and more cunning.++_

_With the battle tipping against him, Revan decided to try something unorthodox._

_He feinted to the side, then attacked low to bring his blade in an uppercut swipe. It swished harmlessly past his opponent as he sidestepped but it also brought Revan within the traitor's guard. Grabbing the hem of his cloak, Revan stepped in and head butted the man in the mask. He had hoped to crush the man's visor or at least obscure his vision, but it felt like he had just tried to head butt a sack of rocks. Revan reeled back, his face in agony._

_++Not the best idea I've had,++_

_Suddenly he was on the defensive again, desperately trying to fend off the storm of swords. The traitor paced him relentlessly, his blade a flurry of motion. The Jedi could only duck, swipe and dodge, hoping the next blade would somehow miraculously miss him. More often than not, he forced to stumble away like a witless child, too injured and cautious to meet the man head on. As the menacing spectre stalked him, Revan sensed he was gradually being backed to the far corner. That, he knew was the worst situation to be on, cornered without any room to dodge or deflect. He needed to think of a solution fast. _

_So when the traitor thrust at him, Revan attempted his favored corkscrew tactic, parrying the opponent's blade with a windmill action then stepping in with a savage thrust of his sword against the other man's neck. Usually the opponent's weapon would be brought wide and they would be put off balance, helpless to deflect. Instead, the traitor spun with the momentum of the deflection, pirouetting to the left just as Revan's blade thrust forward. The man countered in mid spin, landing a solid blow on the side of the Jedi's head. _

_There was a muffled grunt, then the audible crack of metal against bone as Revan hammered into the unyielding floor. Revan felt like his jaw had just shattered. The Jedi coughed blood through a ruined mouth, barely cognizant of the fact that the traitor stood looming over him. _

_++Powerful...he's just too powerful.++_

_His lightsaber had rolled a few meters away. He tried reached out but the traitor stepped in front of him and the weapon could have been a galaxy away. The Jedi almost gave into despair then, until he remembered he had one last trump card to play._

_++Whoresbane's...Whoresbane's dagger...++_

_Even as he remembered the potent weapon, Revan found himself rising as his nemesis lifted him by his ruined tunic. Impassive as ever, the man leaned in and stared at Revan through pitiless eyes. Something close to surprise must have registered on the other man's face because his grip faltered for a moment._

_++...You?++ he seemed to say. Curiously, Revan also felt something at that moment, a fleeting sensation of recognition. They stared at each other for many moments without saying or doing anything, searching for each other's identities. _

_Then slowly, the traitor's metal fingers lurched out for the Jedi's skull, almost as if he was curious what would happen. Revan struggled to free himself from the iron clad grasp but the man was relentless_

_Just as the tips brushed his skull, the traitor staggered. A dark form had collided against his back, gripping him by the shoulders._

_++What...what is that thing?++_

_Revan realized with surprise that it was the Twi'lek, almost unrecognizable through his injuries. The alien's skin was black and crispy with welters of blood, yet somehow he still lived and right now he was clinging to vile man with all the tenacity of a snake. _

_"No victory..." the Jedi husked through ruined lips. "no victory for you traitor..."_

_Revan thudded back to the floor as the masked warrior turned around to grapple with the nuisance. At that moment, the Jedi knew he wouldn't have a better chance. Revan gripped the handle of the Devil's Little Helper and lurched to his feet. _

_The traitor had easily flung the Twi'lek to the floor and was crushing the last vestiges of life out of him with his bare hands. The victim gasped and pawed pathetically at the two metal hands around his neck but his efforts were nothing but a distraction for the fiend. _

_And that was the point. _

_The alien's eye's were rolling into its sockets just as Revan mimicked his earlier attack and crashed bodily into his killer's back. The traitor jerked in annoyance. But before the man could throw him off, Revan plunged the dagger into the weak joint around his neck. The metal slid up to the hilt before Revan thumbed the activation trigger._

* * *

_Light like a miniature star engulfed the quiet room. The traitor's body exploded in blue, streaks of energy licked his immaculate black armor. Revan staggered away from the light but he recovered his wits quickly and watched the destruction unfold. His victim thrashed uncontrollably while untold amounts of destructive carnage wracked his form. And this time, the man did scream. It was like nothing Revan had heard before, a noise that seemed to spew forth from a choir of the damned. Different pitches of sound emitted from the mask, both agonizing and liberating at the same time. Rancid smoke leaked out of the joints and underneath the mask as the flesh below it blistered. Then suddenly, the blinding lit diminished and the man fell prone._

* * *

_Revan approached the smoking body cautiously and knelt. The masked man twitched in residual spasms, but otherwise didn't react or try to defend himself. The metal of his chestplate had fused with his clothing, making the body look like an intangible, ichorous mess. His cloak was nothing more than tattered scraps of cloth. The breathing Revan had heard earlier was reduced to a thin wheezing behind the mask. The fiend might not be dead but he probably wish he was. _

_++It's over. He won't torment anyone again.++_

_The Jedi supposed he should feel relief at the man's defeat but all he felt was an odd emptiness. Then he felt the ship rock violently beneath his feet. Revan looked up and saw the shields were diminishing under the relentless barrage from their traitorous brethren. The flagship had seemed impervious until this point, but being deprived of their leader's guidance, it was beginning to die in earnest. As one of the wall panels exploded, Revan started wondering if it was really his fate to die on this ship. _

_He looked around quickly and realized that everyone was dead save perhaps the Battle Meditator. He staggered up to the commander's broken form and took her wrist._

_++A pulse++_

_Revan breathed a sigh. The traitor had not claimed her. His other comrades might be dead, but he had not failed in his test where it had mattered the most. The Jedi didn't know how he could possibly get them out of the flagship before it exploded, but he did know he had to try. _

_++At least the hard part of the trial is over.++_

_The Jedi was preparing to lift the limp body of the commander when a voice entered his head._

_"You're mistaken Jedi, it has only just begun."_

_"Who-" he gasped. But he already knew the answer. Once more, the laws of time and physics around him were bent as a glowing white apparition came into existence before his eyes. Reality itself bowed to this entity, the smoke, fire and devastation in the dying ship freezing into that one instance in time. The only thing that moved was the the glowing spectre as she materialized into real space, shifting to that of a child, maiden and crone. Only her eyes remained constant, locking its depthless gaze towards the sole conscious figure. _

_"You...you led me to this battle. You're responsible for all...this" Revan breathed. The spectre nodded._

_"It is time Jedi," she said in a voice just above a whisker of a whisper. "Time to make your choice,"_

_"Not so fast," said Revan sharply, stepping forward. "I want some damn answers."_

_"Then ask," she replied with perfectly measured timbre. Revan pointed to the Battle Meditator._

_"What just happened? I saw the bastard reach out and grab her face. Then she started screaming. What did he do to her?"_

_"He reached into her consciousness and forged a permanent connection." _

_"Permanent connection?" echoed Revan incredulously, "You're...you're talking about a Force bond," _

_The spectre shook her head._

_"Force bonds imply mutual empathy. No, it is much worse than that. He has taken her mind. Forced the Battle Meditator to bend to his dark psyche. Her memories are his as surely as her thoughts. In time, she will be bent fully to her will. No better than a slave that will follow his command as blindly as any of his mongrel henchmen."_

_"You're saying...the traitor lured her to this ship so he could... subjugate her?" _

_A nod. "It is a technique he has perfected to enslave many of his servants. To make them serve him and to learn their secrets. In this case, he wanted the latter. Like a virus, he spreads his malevolent influence, corrupting others until they are only a shell of what they once were."_

_Revan looked at the masked monster with disgust. "That is truly despicable. The galaxy is better off without the likes of him polluting existence."_

_"And that is why you must choose."_

_"Choose what?" he growled_

_"Whether to kill him of course. The choice you make now will permanently change the path of the Republic. Whether it will live to see the next millennium."_

_She motioned to the black clad's dying form_

_"The traitor lies before you, truly exposed and vulnerable for the first and last time. The Jedi Council has decreed his death for the good of the galaxy and this will be the only window of opportunity that you will get to carry out their will. But you must do it now for he is only temporarily incapacitated."_

_Revan saw that it was true. He could see the man stirring from his slumber. The armor was miraculously mending, the tears and rents coalescing together like liquid. Even his wounds were knitting._

_"You see? His will defies the cage I have placed on him. The body is repairing the grievous wound you inflicted and soon he will re-emerge unscathed. Then you and all your allies efforts to this point will be for naught. You need to kill him...if you want to be true to the Jedi cause."_

_"He is defenceless...unarmed."_

_Another thought came to Revan at that moment._

_"Wait...you said he had just bonded her essence to his. If I kill him, the shockwave of his death will carry out to all that are bonded to him. Including her," he looked towards the unconscious Battle Meditator. The spectre seemed unmoved._

_"A necessary sacrifice. Her mind has already been broken, slaved to his will. She will never be free of his influence. Killing her will be a mercy."_

_Revan's face tightened at the callousness of her words._

_"You talk like she is a thing. Collateral damage. I will not condemn one to the fate of another just for the sake of convenience." _

_At that moment, a revelation came upon him. A moment of clarity where Revan truly realized what this whole 'test' was all about._

_"You knew this would happen all along didn't you? That I would need to kill an innocent life in order to carry out the council's decree. You set this trial up to see if I would be willing to cross that line." _

_Revan spat put the words like a curse. Then he dropped the dagger he had used to fell the man in the first place._

_"I refuse. A Jedi would never commit such a heinous act of murder."_

_"This is no time for mercy Jedi," the lady replied. For the first time, a note of accusation crept into the disembodied spirit._

_"Sometimes the right choice is not the one that will shower you in glory. You heard the Masters arguments. His death is the only way the Order will survive this fallout. The majority of the fleet depends on his guidance. Once he regains consciousness and control, his loyalist forces will regroup and exact bloody retribution on the other turncoats. Then the black tide will forever envelop the galaxy and this insurrection will have been for naught. But if you kill him right now, his forces will be thrown into disarray and cripple itself trying to destroy the dissent from within. It will give the time necessary for the Republic forces to regain their edge in this war."_

_The words were spoken passionately, and for the first time Revan felt doubt creeping into his convictions. Could this really be what is best? Did the lives of many justify sacrificing the few?_

_"You want me to kill someone who cannot even defend himself while sacrificing another in cold blood. You want me to break my oath and foreswear the fundamental tenets of the Jedi Order. "_

_"I want to show you what it means to be a Jedi Knight" she said firmly. "You are sworn to protect the weak, but it is never so clear cut in this galaxy. Sometimes those of your Order have to go to extremes to fulfill their oath. To be willing to go as far as their enemies, and further." _

_The spectre approached him then, and whispered into his ear._

_"So Revan. I ask you now. Are you truly loyal to the Jedi? Will you carry out your orders and save the galaxy or condemn it to eternal darkness?"_

_Revan stared at the two lives that hung in the balance but did not answer._


	32. Chapter 32 Rescue Mission

_Author's note: The following chapter has an intense scene of violence. Viewer discretion is advised._

* * *

_I'm putting my faith in a Jedi Knight. That still counts for something in this galaxy._

_-unattributed source._

* * *

"Wake up. Wake up damn you!"

A series of stinging slaps accompanied the command as Revan re-emerged into the world with blood stained eyes. He found himself face to face with Kynes and immediately realized three things. The first one was obvious. _I'm not dead. _The second was mild surprise at how angry the traditionally stone faced sniper was. The third realization was most jarring or all.

_I had forgotten how much they all look alike_

The bone structure, the eyes, even the lips were eerily similar. Except the hair and eyes. While the Battle Meditator had dark brown hair, Kyne's was murderously black. And her eyes...

_Pale grey, like a dead sky. Not the hinterland._

"Are you dead?" the taciturn woman demanded.

_A good question. _But to her, the Jedi only said. "Not yet,"

"Then why are you still lying there?"

Revan looked around and realized he was lying on one of the many makeshift beds. It looked like a room that had been hastily constructed into an infirmary. Dozens of bodies lay on metal beds while many more were simply left on the floor in blood stained blankets. The smell of death, piss and blood, mingled discordantly with the wails of victims.

_Courtesy of Malleus and his freakshow_

"What happened?" the Jedi asked, rubbing the top or his forehead. His skull was pounding from the sudden blood rush of the rude awakening.

"You were right. It was a trick," the way Kynes said it, It definitely didn't sound like praise. She almost seemed angry that he was right.

"The Abominations butchered everything they could find and provided the diversion while Malleus raided the vault. Worse, he took what he wanted and escaped."

_Vault?_ Thought Revan. His hazy thought process eventually remembered that was where they were heading until being waylaid.

"What was taken?"

The sniper's face darkened.

"Did you turn into a complete ass when those rocks fell on your head? He took the _weapon!"_

_And from your tone, I think it's safe to assume he has it._

Revan decided not to press the point. Kynes was clearly ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. He changed the subject.

"I've seen your battlements. They were formidable. How could all those monsters have infiltrated the base without due warning?"

For a moment, something close to guilt flashed through Kyne's eyes.

"Malleus had...help. From an old acquaintance."

The words stirred up an unbidden image. Revan found himself remembering the bizarre alien he had seen in the caverns.

"That thing that held Thalia's daughter captive?"

She nodded grimly. Before Revan could ask another question, she turned for the door.

"Follow me. We need to speak to Lucidae and figure out our next course of action."

_How about mourning your dead?_

And yet, the Jedi got off the bed. When he stood, Revan couldn't help but grimace. His body felt like it had been repeatedly beaten by a tenderizer but that could only be expected after being under a hundred tons of bricks. He was mildly surprised that someone had bothered to extract him at all. Then again, he supposed it would have been discourteous of Kynes to leave him smothered under the debris that was meant for her.

The sniper glanced at his discomfort without pity before leaving the room.

* * *

The whole base was in chaos. Humans, aliens and droids scrambled out of different rooms, yelling for medicine and equipment. Plainly there wasn't enough to go around. In each room, men, women and children were screaming in agony, many of them no more than living stumps. In fact, there seemed to be more individidual body parts than people.

Revan saw one particularly unfortunate victim, a Torgruta with her breasts chewed off. She was being attended by what Thalia had called a fleshsmith, the droids that were programmed for battlefield surgery. Right now, it was sewing up the gaping wounds dispassionately while its patient sobbed.

From time to time, Revan saw smoking piles of Abomination corpses. Some of Aethon's soldiers were flaming them, reducing their contaminated bodies into charred ash. Scattered amongst them were the dead of Aethon. Some were alone, covered in blood stained sheets. Others were being hugged by their loved ones, weeping bloody tears onto their ruined bodies. A Twi'lek no older than five was clutching a headless body, sobbing one word over and over again.

"Mother!" the little child wailed.

_Mother. _The word made him think of Thalia and the daughter that had been captured. The Jedi wondered if the Twi'lek had survived the massacre. He hoped so. Aside from Mysteel, she was the only other member of Aethon he felt remotely comfortable with. Revan risked a glance at her counterpart as they stepped into an elevator. Her icy facade had melted in light of the catastrophe. The Jedi could sense her ire plainly now, as volatile as T'shere's. She was muttering a myriad of soft curses under her breath.

"...Damn that bastard. There is no hell dark enough for him to burn..."

"How bad?" Revan asked eventually, for no better reason that to stop her tirade. The sniper glared at him for interrupting her brooding before a measure of iron discipline returned.

"Thirty Abominations are feeding the worms. But almost half of our forces on this blighted rock are gone as well." she replied curtly. "Mostly women and children who were left defenceless during the first stages of the attack. Fodder for those cretins to rape and kill as they pleased."

There was anger in her voice in her voice, but also pain as well. As chief of security, she was directly responsible for the welfare or the people in this stronghold. Losing half of the noncombatant must have been a grievous blow emotionally. The silver lining was that Kynes actually had emotions.

_And now the hard one.._.

"Thalia-"

"Dead." she replied with leaden finality. "Killed by the same bastard that dropped a ceiling on you"

The Jedi's felt a pang of sorrow as his worst suspicions were confirmed. He would miss the woman, with her stories and her mischievous smiles. The mother of two rambunctious daughters and a turd.

"How...?"

"As far as I know, she was in the Vault when Malleus attacked. Her daughters tried to stop the wretch...but...it wasn't enough,"

_Her daughters._ Revan dreaded the answer.

"Is Mysteel..."

"A few bruises and a broken hand. Nothing she won't recover from." Kynes answered absently as they stepped out of the elevator and into the corridor that was thankfully devoid of corpses. The sniper did not seem to register the relief on his face as she continued.

"T'shere on the other hand...The rescue teams brought her out alive, bleeding like a butchered bantha. She's in the emergency ward. The Lord Commander is attempting a healing trance on her...but I've been told he is not optimistic."

A crack in her voice was evident. The sniper turned away from him, probably so he could not see her grief. An awkward silence fell upon the pair until the Jedi felt obligated to say something consoling.

"I'm sorry" Revan said eventually. Somehow, that only seemed to anger Kynes more. She stopped and whipped her glare back at him.

"Spare me your false courtesies Jedi." She hissed "You loved her no more than the countless other men and women you've put to the blade."

Realizing her choler had taken over again, the woman took a deep breath

"If you must feel sorry for someone, let it be for Malleus' victims."

She resumed her stalking gait down the hall, Revan following a moment after. With nothing more to talk about, the Jedi thought back to his last few moment of consciousness. He remembered only bits and pieces. But he did recall seeing Thalia's daughter weeping, caught in the grip of that leering monster clothed in Twi'lek's skin.

_An ugly thing. An ugly soul._

His encounter with that monster wasn't half as disturbing as with that other thing...the one that sniffed at him like Victus.

_You smell like death_ it had said. That had to be Malleus_._ All Reborn had the same rancid smell of death and ruin. Revan remembered the chill that ran through his bones before his descent into darkness and into...

_No, best not to think about that._

Shaking his head, he decided to focus on another interesting development. All the bits and pieces Kynes had let slip during their discussions suddenly fell into place. Her remarks about dealing with rapists, Thalia dead with her child taken in retaliation. It didn't take him long to figure out the connection.

_There is only one reason why he would bother taking the child._

"That...thing." Revan asked cautiously. "The alien you called Matarl. Is he the child's-"

"Never mind that," Kynes replied brusquely. She plainly did not want to talk about the wretch. "We have more pressing matters than to go open old wounds. What's important is that he and Malleus have the weapon now, a thousand curses on his blighted name."

"And Thalia's daughter." Revan reminded her pointedly. The sniper turned away.

"Her too,"

By then the pair had reached the end of the corridor, in front of a room with clear pane windows. Revan could see bulky medical equipment through them. Trays were stacked on top of iron table slabs, filled with knives, needles and scissors. Some were pristine grey while others were soaked in blood of all colors: black, blue, green...and a lot of red.

_The O.R...one of the better ones at least._

Two soldiers guarded the doors, their armor as black as the sniper's. When Kynes stepped up to them, both of them inclined their heads.

"Sub commander,"

"Open the doors," Kynes said in cold iron tones. They hesitated.

"Forgive us ma'am," said the one on the left "but the Lord Commander explicitly stated he was not to be disturbed. He requires the utmost attention to heal commander T'shere's wounds."

The sniper glowered for a moment but gave a stiff nod and stepped back.

"Fine. We'll wait."

The four of them stood sullenly in the hallway, not even bothering to make the pretence of small talk. Revan could hear the distant screams of the maimed and dying floors below as the sawbones did their grizzly work. The Jedi couldn't help but feel that somehow, their deaths were also on his hands. Sure, many had survived today, but many more would die from their wounds.

_I'm surrounded by corpses. _He thought grimly. _But what did I expect? I make them wherever I go._

In a way, it was true. Wherever he walked, the people around him died in droves, friend and foe alike. It was somewhat of a hazard for his profession, but Revan had accrued a higher body count than many in their entire careers as a Jedi Knight.

_A real Jedi wouldn't have let all these people die. They would have found a way to stop the bloodshed before it even started._

The thought darkened his mood. Once again, he had failed to protect the weak, failed to even protect the little girl from being whisked away. And she had been right in from of him! Was there any greater shame for a Jedi than to stand helplessly while the ones they defended were slaughtered in droves?

_This was a chance to redeem myself in the eyes of the Council. Small chance in that now._ He thought ruefully. Maybe it was simply better to abandon all hope of returning to the Order. There was simply too much blood on his hands.

Not that he could now anyways. The weapon had slipped through his fingers. Revan knew he could not return to the Watcher empty handed. But what could he do? Retrieval seemed impossible now since he had no idea where Malleus and his cretins went. Then there was the small problem of cutting his way through Force knows how many Abominations and most likely the Reborn himself. If Victus was anything to go by, it would not be a favourable outcome.

_I don't need that much right now. Just a miracle. _He thought sourly.

Half an hour passed before a voice on the intercom broke the silence.

"Sergeant. Let them in."

The guard nodded and tapped a sequence of keys on his wrist pad. The doors hissed wide open and the guard stepped to the side. "Sub commander, you may pass,"

Kynes swept in, followed closely by Revan. They stopped momentarily in a miniature white chamber where antiseptic gas was sprayed over their bodies to prevent foreign material from infecting the wounded. The doors then opened to reveal a larger chamber with half a dozen surgical tables on either side, each occupied by an extremely wounded looking soldier or civilian. Mercifully, this room was quiet, save for the periodic beeping of heart monitors. At least two droids attended each table, monitoring life signs.

_Aethon does have a lot of droids..._

Kynes gave none of these victims more than a passing glance. Instead, she marched straight towards the last oval door in the room and pressed a her palm on the detection grid. There was a beep and the gate rolled open to one side.

Inside, T'shere laid bedridden.

As he entered the room, Revan was shocked to see the Arkanian in this state. The commander's cheeks were sunken, her skin was an ashen grey in contrast to the usual lustrous silver. An oxygen mask covered her blue shriveled lips. But it was her midsection that drew the most attention. The blanket that covered it was blood stained, as were the cables and feeding tubes that protruded from underneath.

Lucidae and Mysteel were there, one on either side of the wounded Arkanian. Both of them had taken a shrunken hand into their own. Lucidae acknowledged their approach with a faint nod but the Twi'lek didn't react at all to their arrival.

_More corpses...the life has been drained from them._

Revan could see that the former Master's face was long and solemn, fully exhausted. It was clear that Lucidae has expended much energy healing the casualties of the attack. Still, his green eyes were sharp and they never left his young charge's face.

When Revan turned at Mysteel, he was saddened. Gone was the mischievous and carefree look. It was replaced by an expression of utter devastation, mixed with grim despair. Dark rings clung to the bottom of her eyes, a clear indication she had not rested in some time and that she had been crying for most of it. Revan didn't know what had happened to her in those dark tunnels, but clearly a part of Mysteel had died down there.

Kynes stroked the Arkanian's blood matted air for a few moments before asking.

"Lord, how is she?"

Lucidae frown tightened.

"T'shere is...stable for the time being. The droids have put her in a coma for the duration of the healing trance."

He sighed.

"I will not lie. Physically she is still in grave danger. Organ failure, internal bleeding, sepsis...the surgeons and I do what we can for her, but truly her fate is up to the will of the Force."

Noticing Kyne's worried look, he stood up to let her take his place at the Arkanian's side. After a moment he placed a hand on her shoulder and said.

"Kynes...I heard what they found Arctet's body in the tunnels. I am sorry for your loss.

_Him too?_

Revan grimaced when he heard that the boy had been killed. The youth was tongue tied and hopeless in a fight, but he wasn't completely stupid. And he _definitely_ didn't deserved to ripped apart by those monsters. Revan could only hope his death had been relatively painless. Kynes gave a stiff nod and replied in a low voice.

"He was awkward and rough around the edges I know. But he had a keen mind and followed orders, the makings of a great scout."

The Master nodded solemnly and turned his attention to his other pupil. Revan noticed Mysteel had avoided eye contact with Lucidae all this time.

"Mysteel, my dear Mysteel. Words cannot express my sorrow at what has transpired today. Thalia was dear to all our hearts. She could light up any room with her presence alone."

The Twi'lek remained silent.

"And your little sister. It grieves me to know she in the clutches of those monsters. You have my word that Aethon will do everything in its power to retrieve the child unharmed"

Even with her Master's assurances, the Twi'lek didn't even bother to look up. The temperature in the room seemed to have gone dropped several degrees. Revan was disturbed by her coldness. _She's angry with him_ he realized Kynes broke the silence with an awkward cough.

"Lord, I beg your forgiveness. The security protocols were lax and I never thought that the traitor could bypass them so thoroughly. As chief of security, I will take whatever punishment you deem fit."

"No,"

The voice caught everyone by surprise. It was soft but thick with anger and loathing. Mysteel finally looked up at everyone else. Her eyes were hot and cold, two orbs that glowed like sapphires. The glare made Kyne's wary but Lucidae's face remained neutral.

"You won't punish her Lucidae, because the blame is on you." said the Twi'lek as she stood up slowly from her side of the bed.

"Where were you _Master_ when the enemy came and butchered your people? Where were you when T'shere needed you most?".

Her voice was taught like a whip, cracking harder with each passing syllable. For his part, Lucidae took the disrespectful tone in stride.

"Leading our men."

Mysteel laughed scornfully.

"Leading? It looked more like hiding to me. T'shere always said you were afraid of Malleus and that's why you always sent us to do your dirty work. I can see now that she was right."

"Mysteel," Kynes said in a warning tone, but the Twi'lek continued, each word filled with acid.

"This disaster is all because of you. _You_ let that bastard go free years ago. _You_ let him come here with those freaks and butcher the women and children! _You_ let him cripple my sister and kill-"

"Mysteel!" snapped Kynes, "That's enough!"

The sniper's sharp words were enough to stop Mysteel before any more damage could be done. Lucidae stared at his pupil with...with what? Pity? Sorrow? Revan found it hard to read the man at the best of times. Eventually Lucidae bowed his head.

"I'm sorry Mysteel." he said softly. That didn't appease the angry Twi'lek.

"Oh you're sorry." she said mockingly through trembling lips. Her sapphire eyes blinked back angry tears.

"Will your sorrow bring my mother back to life? Will it save my sisters?"

"No," Lucidae admitted walking over to his trembling pupil. "But as your Master, I promise I will do everything in my power to make this right. T'shere will not die if I have anything to say about it. Have faith Tails."

Lucidae reached out for her shoulder, but Mysteel wrenched away from the touch.

"No, _No_! You don't get to call me that," she hissed, backing away. With a look of loathing, Mysteel pointed an accusing finger at her Master's face.

"It should have been you Lucidae. It should have been you! I hate you for letting this happen. Matarl might be a monster, but he was right about one thing. Mercy is for the weak."

Revan's jaw had dropped at that point. Even Kyne's looked noticeably shocked at Mysteel's change in attitude.

_Malleus didn't just break her spirit. He's twisted it. Letting her live was the cruelest thing they could have done,_

Revan thought he should say something at this point, buthe could only stare at Mysteel with a mixture of anger and pity as she slumped back in her chair.

"Get out, all of you. Just go and leave us alone."

The command was spoken with leaden calmness which made it all the more disquieting. Her Master looked at the wayward Twi'lek sadly but decided not to press down the point. Words would only inflame the situation even more.

"As you will," Lucidae said, turning for the door. Revan and Kynes followed suit.

* * *

The three walked in silence until they reached Lucidae's laboratory. Everything was as Revan had remembered it as he entered. A workplace cluttered with test tubes and machinery while the droids went through their work with nary a thought about the devastation that had been wrought in the rest of the stronghold. Lucidae walked wearily up to his massive throne chair below the computer screen and collapsed into it. Revan and Kynes stayed respectfully silent as the Master rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he looked at the Jedi and gave him a humourless smile.

"Ah Revan, how badly you must think of me. In the short time we have met, I have managed to lose a priceless artifact, a mother and her daughter. Oh and my two pupils. It seems I will lose them one way or another as well. That is hardly becoming of a Jedi Master, wouldn't you say?"

Revan gave a tight lipped smile.

"You'd be surprised. I knew a Togruta who did worse."

That got a tired laugh from Lucidae. Kynes stepped up to his side.

"Lord Commander, forgive her. She is sick with fear for her siblings and grieves for her mother,"

"There is nothing to forgive." Lucidae said solemnly. He steepled his fingers and looked at them both.

"As much as I want to mourn the dead and dying, we have more pressing issues. Namely the act of recovery. Malleus must not be allowed to unleash that...horror upon the galaxy. And I will not let Matarl tarnish Thalia's legacy. She deserves better than that."

"I agree sir,"

The Master turned and tapped at his computer console. The screen became alight with data feeds. Revan eye's widened when he realized they were statistics on force dispositions, their compositions, degrees of readiness and their locations. If he was reading this correctly, Lucidae had roughly thirty cells worth of men, with each cell numbering between eighty to one hundred and fifty like Aethon.

_So many...it almost looks like Lucidae an entire regiment._

The Jedi was surprised by the sheer variety of assets this man had. He wondered how the Master had managed to acquire so much equipment and resources. Some may have been mercenaries but still...

"To that end, I have recalled the majority of our scout ships and armed forces near this sector to conduct a thorough search. We must find Malleus' ship before their scent goes cold. Kynes, I believe this is your theatre of expertise."

The sniper stepped up closer to the view screen.

"If it please my Lord...I believe I know where Malleus and his brood may have gone." replied Kynes quietly.

That raised an eyebrow from both of the males.

"Explain" Lucidae bade her.

"While we were sorting through the casualties, my men reported that one of our long range transmitters began reporting remotely. And the records do not show any recently scheduled deployments, which means it was done in the spur of the moment. And only scouts carry that sort of equipment."

As she said the words, Revan's eyes lit up with comprehension.

"You think Arctet managed to plant a homing beacon on one of the attackers before they escaped?"

A nod. "It would seem that way,"

"So..." said the Master "it appears your pupil managed to perform one last duty before Matarl escaped. I believe he is due for a posthumous medal."

Kynes seemed pleased at those words. "Thank you sir,"

Lucidae stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Still, we do not know whether it is Malleus or Matarl that Arctet managed to probe. If they have parted ways..."

"I find that unlikely sir." Kynes replied confidently. "Matarl showed the signs. He is Malleus' slave now so if we find one, we will find the other."

The Master nodded.

"Very well. May I assume you took the initiative and sent probes to confirm their location?"

"I did my Lord. I am getting feedback coordinates from their location even as we speak." She began tapping the view screen and a moment later, the image of a planet materialized. The sphere was a murky green, with puss like nodules erupting from the surface like cancer.

"This is A-672, an unexplored planet deep into the Unknown Regions. Preliminary scans classify it as a Death World. Sulphur and chloride atmosphere. Temperatures close to boiling. Other data is coming in as we speak."

"I see." The Master gave the sniper an approving look. "You did well Kynes. This marks the first real intel we have received on one of their strongholds in a long time.

Kynes lips curled into what could have passed for a smile. She switched the screen back to the tactical display.

"The Fifth and Tenth cells are at full strength and can arrive in Darith's orbit within hours at light speed. Twelfth as well if we wait a day. But if I may say so, time is against us."

Lucidae stood up, a look of grim determination etched onto his face.

"Then the path is clear. We must act quickly and launch a rescue mission to retrieve that which was stolen from us. The fifth and ninth will bring swift wrath to the transgressors. Kynes, I will trust you to make the necessary preparations."

The sniper saluted briskly.

"With T'shere incapacitated and my Lord occupied with the injured, I am the highest ranking member of Aethon on active duty. Therefore, I will assume command of the two companies and-"

"No,"

It was only one word, but the sniper looked momentarily confused.

"Lord?"

"You will not be leading this rescue mission." the former Jedi Master turned to Revan and locked him with his cold green eyes.

"He will,"

"Him?" said Kynes incredulously.

"Me?" said Revan with equal amounts of disbelief.

_The Force does have a sense of humor..._

The Jedi could not imagine for the life of him, why the Master would trust him with his own men. Neither could Kynes. The sniper looked at her superior like he had just told her to strangle babies and rape their mothers.

_Is he mad? Or simply desperate?_

"With respect sir, is this some kind of joke?" her voice had become markedly more hostile at this turn of events.

"And why would you assume it was?" asked Lucidae mildly. Kynes snorted, as if the answer was obvious.

"He is a Jedi."

"You're point being? Am I, a former member of the Order not your leader?"

"Yes. But that's different!" snapped Kynes before she remembered who she was talking to. In a quieter voice voice she said,

"You founded this hidden Order. We swore to obey _your_ commands, not him. And the men will never follow an outsider. Especially a man with no command experience."

Lucidae seemed unconcerned.

"Jedi are trained in all the trades of warfare, including leadership. I don't think any of you will find him lacking."

"He doesn't know our protocols or the captains-"

"Revan is a quicker learner. He'll figure it out soon enough."

_And how would you know that? _The Jedilooked at the Master suspiciously. _There is something he isn't telling me._

Kynes seemed to have come to the same conclusion. She looked at Lucidae stubbornly, like a dog grasping one end of a bone.

"Lord. You can't-"

"Enough."

This time, Lucidae's tone had become hard and unyielding as iron. He stood swiftly, his robed form cutting a daunting figure that seemed to give the sniper pause.

"As you said, time is against us. So we must make haste less these cowards slip away into the unknown once again. It is my command that Revan will lead this sortie. That is my final word."

Kynes looked defeated. "You are putting your faith into a complete stranger." she said through gritted teeth.

"I am putting my faith in a Jedi Knight," responded Lucidae calmly. "That still counts for something in this galaxy,"

The sniper looked like she had run out of arguments. She glanced at the Jedi sullenly.

"With respect Lord, he hasn't agreed yet,"

Lucidae turned his attention to the man he had sent to die without asking for permission.

"What say you Revan? Will you lead our men to battle for the sake of the galaxy?"

_I woke up today with only the clothes on my back..._

The Jedi looked silently at him for many moments, mulling his response. It seemed very presumptuous of the man to ask him of this. But he was also honored as well. It implied a staggering amount of trust.

_He must have known my answer, otherwise he wouldn't have asked._

In truth it wasn't really a choice at all. Too much was at stake for the Republic, the galaxy at large and he would be damned if he let this opportunity pass. Revan matched the Master's gaze and said quietly.

"I made a promise to you earlier, in this very room. I mean to honor it."

The Master looked pleased with the response.

"Then it is settled. As Master of Aethon, I charge you to bring back that which we have lost. Find Malleus' base of operations and take back the _Praeconor Oblivio_ before it can be put to use. Most importantly, find Thalia's daughter before...before Matarl does something we all regret."

He left the rest unspoken.

"Your will be done...Lord." Revan felt it only appropriate to use his rank now that he was technically part of their hierarchy.

"To this effect, I bestow upon you the rank of Lord Commander. All the resources of this expeditionary force are at your disposal. You have the authority of two hundred and fifty men, woman and droids, to wield as you see fit. Go now, and do your duty. For the Republic."

"For the Republic."

It looked like he had finally got his miracle. After a moment, Revan asked the most important question of all.

"And Malleus? What is to be done with him?"

Lucidae's eyes hardened.

"Justice," he replied simply.

* * *

_So...this is how the Reborn pays me for my help_

Matarl didn't know how long he had been here. He couldn't even really remember _how _he got here. Somewhere along Malleus' escape from the catacombs, his world had passed into darkness. Perhaps a rock had been involved because his skull throbbed abominably. But that could have just been from waking up on the cold hard floor. What he did know was that they had taken his tiny prize and shoved him into a dark room without any explanation. Matarl didn't expect to be showered in glory, but he did think his hosts would show a little more damn gratitude.

_I was going to take her away and raise her like my lost son...now I don't even have that._

They had called this place a guest room but it was nothing more than a cell. Granted, it was a tall and spacious room Matarl supposed, but it only had one window and that was barred with metal and barbed wire. The walls were mouldy and when he squinted, the alien could make out blood smears from its previous inhabitants. Meat hooks and other implements of torture hung forlornly on rusted nails, clinking softly. No doubt many a prisoner had been flayed and left to die here. Was that his fate?

_No_ he decided. If Malleus wanted him dead, he would be a bloody smear by now. And someone had made the passing effort to keep this space tidy if not exactly clean.

Matarl's only furnishings was a metal table, a ragged mattress stuffed with rags and...a bucket. There was tepid liquid in the basin on the table, but it stank more of piss than water. Vermin crawled around his feet, horrible slimy things with a hundred legs, things that bit and sucked on his palsied flesh when he had been sleeping. When Matarl tried to stamp on them, they scuttled away into the myriad of cracks within the crumbling walls.

_So many holes... But big enough to escape. _

There were two soldiers guarding the front of his locked door. He knew because one or the other would pop their head into the slit from time to time to make sure he was alive. And like all of Malleus' slaves, they were a hideous bunch. At first, he had asked them questions, things like where the hell was he, how long he was supposed to be here and where Malleus was. One of them said he would find out in due time and should just be thankful they put him in the guest room.

"You don't want to know where we put our other prisoners," one of them had chuckled. The distant sound of screaming convinced Matarl of that fact. After some more questions, it became clear they weren't giving him anything.

All of this had come as an unpleasant surprise, although Matarl had to admit it wasn't the first time he found himself in a prison. In fact, he had lost count of the number of times he had been incarcerated. Back then, the alien always used his cunning to escape. Whether it was lulling his guards into a false sense of security, drugging them, or picking the lock himself, the Rutian never lacked for freedom.

I _could get out of this piss hole. If I could hear myself bloody think for a moment..._

Matarl found any sort of thinking to be painful after his slumber, like it was against his nature to have higher thought process. Not to mention his skin itched abominably, the feeling akin to a thousand parasites gnawing under his skin. Hot and cold flashes came so often it was was enough to drive the Twi'lek mad. Yet through all the turmoil, there was one sensation that was his constant companion. _Hunger_.

He had woken up with a dreadful hole in his stomach which only got worse as time went by. When had he eaten? It seemed like an eternity since the Rutian had shoved anything into his mouth for nourishment. Finally unable to stand the cravings anymore, Matarl went to his cell door and banged loudly.

"Oi! How long are you going to keep me holed up in here without anything to eat? Feed me you _bastards_!"

No answer. But he knew they were outside. Matarl could hear one snickering.

"You can't keep ignoring me! I helped your bloody Master. Get me some damn food, you pisspot wipers!"

Matarl started cursing his handlers relentlessly. He clawed at the walls and brayed threats until his fingers were bloody.

_They can't hide out there forever!_

After a few hours of these ravings, both voice and strength left his body. The pain in his stomach became unbearable and Matarl was reduced to pleading for food. He promised them credits and secrets but the guards were deaf to his musings. Matarl even went so low as to suggest pleasuring them for a morsel of bread.

"I can't imagine any woman spreading her legs for you." he husked through withered lips "Come in here, and I'll make the bald man cry. Just _feed_ me...please..."

The guards thought that was funny. In fact they found it so funny that they actually gave him something. A few seconds after his lewd suggestion, they hauled something kicking and screaming through the door and threw it in.

A Twi'lek.

"Enjoy," one of the guards said as the door slammed shut again.

The newcomer was a young nubile looking girl, no older than eighteen. Although her skin was marred by whip marks and filth, she was a pretty thing with an attractive face and supple breasts. She flailed blindly the darkness for a few seconds before her eyes adjusted and caught sight of Matarl. That was when she started screaming.

_"Nooooo. Nooooo! Please anything but this!". _The girl rushed to the metal gates and began pounding over and over again. When that didn't work, she rushed into the corner of the cell, pressing herself as far away from Matarl as possible.

Matarl stared at her and felt a desire surge through his veins. It wasn't lust though...more like...

_Meat. Tender, bloody meat._

A tiny voice in his head recoiled at the thought. Cannibalism among any race was reviled. Even the Sand People of Tatooine didn't lower themselves to such depravity. But in reality Matarl found it hard to think of himself as a Twi'lek anymore. At first he had resisted the notion, but Matarl had known for some time now.

_I am one of them. _

Maybe that that was why he allowed himself to attack the helpless girl. Matarl didn't let himself think about the heinous act, he just let it happen. The palsied skinned alien cornered the smaller Twi'lek with outstretched hands and began tearing the flimsy rags off her body. When he inched his face closer to bite, the Twi'lek screamed and clawed at the hideous eyes. Matarl didn't mind. It reminded him of his rough nights in the brothels. Many whores liked to put up a fight. In fact, this almost felt like foreplay.

Matarl's bony fingers opened and found purchase around her scrawny neck. He started squeezing. That sent her into a frenzy. She pounded her fists on Matarl's chest frantically, but he only growled and applied more pressure. As she struggled, the victim's face contorted from hate, loathing to fear. _Just like Thalia when I took her. _The thought of the deceased woman only made him more angry.

_I killed her. But it didn't make things better. Even from the grave she find a way to piss at me._ He squeezed harder, picturing the bitch's face on the girl's.

After a few more torturous seconds, the female Twi'lek's hands fell limply to her sides. Then a few seconds later, she stopped breathing.

When he was sure she was dead, Matarl let her drop to the ground. Then with sharpened claws, he tore through the Twi'lek's belly with a sickening ripping noise to expose her steaming entrails. The scent of blood and meat drove Matarl into a frenzy and he buried his face into the abdomen and started gorging himself. The monster ripped into the meat with need like teeth, gnashing it into a bloody slurry before swallowing. The sensation of the bloody meat traveling down his gullet was more heady than any aphrodisiac or drug he had ever sample.

_Force. Nothing has ever tasted so sweet. _He thought between savage bites. _This is living. _

When he had finished the choicest body parts, the monster broke her bones and sucked at the marrow. He was still gnawing at the remains when his door abruptly swept open with the scream of rusted hinges.

Matarl's whipped his head up with narrow eyes and hissed at the intrusion. The light hurt his eyes.

_Who dares!_

Shading his face, the Twi'lek could make out two new forms. They swept into the room and looked at him with murderous pits like his own. One had vaguely humanoid features and Matarl dimly recognized him as the Aspirant who had questioned him none too kindly in the sewers.

The second newcomer Matarl didn't recognize. He had the same palsied skin and battle scars as his comrade but was clearly not human. The head resembled a giant insectoid with multifaceted eyes. Yet it still managed to make a withering scowl. Both were plainly disgusted by his eating habits.

_Let them look. I am past caring what other people think._

"Enjoying your meal?" Asked the human Aspirant. The fiend was sneering at him. "We had it prepared special. The bitch was tenderized, then stuffed good and proper before being served if you catch my meaning."

He laughed cruelly which only stoked the fires in Matarl's chest. The Aspirant may have been a servant of the Reborn but the Twi'lek refused to be cowed. Not anymore.

_I will not beg for freedom. I will not._

"Where is Malleus?" he snarled. Blood dribbled down his gore stained jacket as he spoke. "Answer me before I tear your eyes out,".

His threat seemed to amuse the man.

"Oh ho, the mongrel thinks to strike his betters. Try it worm, I'll carve you up and serve you to my pets. They've been spoiling for meat for some time now. Abominations are always hungry."

Matarl hunched warily as his antagonizer brought out his lightsaber but the other Aspirant blocked his path.

"Enough, the Reborn is waiting." growled the insect thing. The accent was thick and almost intelligible, its mandibles struggling to form galactic standard. "We bring him unharmed."

That didn't seem to please the ugly human whose grin turned into a sullen glare

"I don't see why the Reborn is bothering with him anymore." he grumbled. "the wretch served his purpose, and its clear his genome isn't stable enough to reach stage 2. We should just wait until he becomes mindless fodder."

"The last thing we need is another Abomination," growled the larger alien. He stalked up to the Matarl and hoisted him up to his feet with a yelp. Matarl's first instinct was to resist but one look at the alien's hideous glare told him it would be a stupid idea. The aspirant glared at him for several seconds, like he had just removed something revolting from his foot.

"I'm tired of herding things like him into battle." It said eventually, turning back to his comrade. "We have the ability to rebuild now. To regain our numbers and cultivate warriors like Victus. But first we need to make sure."

The big man shoved Matarl into his comrade's waiting grasp.

"Bring him,"

The first Aspirant glared at Matarl for a moment, spat and dragged him out of the cell.


	33. Chapter 33 The Departure

_Humility, Duty, Compassion: the three Jedi pillars_

_-Unattributed source_

* * *

The shuttle hummed noisily within the ramshackle hangar, a bulky old cruiser dented and scarred with constant exposure to the void. The transport definitely didn't look like much, but it was the ship chosen to take them into the vast grey sky that was Darith's dying atmosphere. That is, if the deadly, acidic rain pouring down in sheets didn't eat away at the hull prematurely.

Revan stood by the lowered platform waiting. Waiting for the procession of ammunition crates and droids to finish marching into the ship's interior. Waiting so he could board and rendez vous with the strike force assigned to his command.

_My strike force._ The words still felt strange to him. While he was technically in control of this mission, Revan did not feel particularly powerful since his command was loaned, not earned. And everything was happening so fast, hurtling towards some unknown destination. Just like the spectre said it would. _Well...at least I look the part of commander now. _

He had been outfitted as befitting his newly acquired rank. Ink black gauntlets, boots and cloak had been provided to replace his battered equipment. The gauntlets contained a command terminal similar to T'shere's that could be used to bring up tactical displays and relay commands. A cloak embroidered with the symbol of Aethon hung from his shoulders, with a heavy cowl obscuring most of his head. Even his robes had been replaced, a marble grey to match his shroud.

Revan spared a look at his benefactor. Lucidae stood beside him, pale and white as a ghost. The Master was not really here of course. His duties to the injured had forced him to stay in the sewers. Instead, he had sent a droid with a built in holothith projector to oversee their preparations.

_He doesn't ask for much…just the safe return of all his men, Thalia's daughter. Oh, and the complete annihilation of Ajunta Pall's legacy._

His role of Lord Commander in the mission had been established with much dissent and mutterings from the rank and file, just as Kynes had suspected. Based on the terse communiques from the eighth and tenth, many of the officers had actually outright condemned the unprecedented the change in command. Nevertheless, Lucidae's word was law, and each man and woman eventually swore to obey the Jedi for the duration of the mission. Now all he had to do was trust their word.

_I might as well stab myself in the back._

After a modicum of consensus was reached, Revan, Lucidae, Kynes and a select number of her subordinates had worked swiftly to work out the logistics. Issues such as ammunition, methods of transports and ETA to the unexplored planet had been discussed. In the interests of time, it was decided that most of Aethon would remain behind to tend to their wounded with only the most battle hardened veterans (Revan was told they were called Widowmakers) accompanying the Jedi into orbit. Kynes presence within the mission was undisputed. Aside from her invaluable experience, she was also well known among the other cells. Her presence would dissuade any misgivings other commanders would have about a Jedi leading them into battle. Or so Lucidae claimed.

_No doubt she will shadow and report back everything I do. And kill me if things get out of hands. Nobody gives away an army without insurance._

Mysteel was a more complicated matter. The Master was reluctant to field her on the mission, especially after her two disastrous encounters with Malleus and the Reborn. But the Twi'lek would not be dissuaded. When she was informed of the rescue mission, Mysteel had told them in no uncertain terms she was going.

"Anyone is free to try and stop me." she said with disturbing calmness, when Lucidae had gently suggested she would be more useful tending to the wounded.

"And I'll be free to kill them,"

That had ended the debate. After the logistics had been worked out, the task force had spent the next two hours stocking up on guns, medicine, and ammunition. Revan spent the time pouring through data, chiefly the names of the commanders, squad leaders, their force disposition and tactical roles. While Kynes had given him a rough idea of their style of warfare, the Jedi made sure to read every dossier and unit background until he was certain of the strengths and weaknesses of each squad, down to the soldier.

When the Jedi was fairly confident he understood the battle regime, he took the time to replenish his depleted supplies. Power cells, medical instruments, thermo detonators for the most part, but Revan also made a point to secretly pilfer an item from Lucidae's lab when no one was looking.

_Better safe than sorry, _Revan thought as he put the syringe into the folds of his cloak.

When the massive payloads had been gathered, the group had moved swiftly as possible through the labyrinthine sewers to reach their pickup point off the planet.

The star port they had chosen for transit was barely a transportation hub at all. Known as Blackstone's Ire, the 'starport' was basically two miles of wasteland composed of buildings demolished from the bombardment centuries ago. Landing strips were cleared away to make space for starships, and there were an abundant number of crumbling, hallowed out buildings that served as hangar bays. While there was enough space to accommodate at least two score of ships, the airfield lacked a navigation tower to coordinate traffic or men to see to their ship's needs. Not that it was really needed. The site was rarely used, save for smugglers or the seedier individuals who did not want to attract attention. Kynes had insisted using Blackstone for discretionary purposes. After one of their strongholds had been effectively annihilated to the man, she surmised that Reeka's forces would be out for blood, challenging every ship crossing their main star lanes.

The sniper had already boarded the craft, along with her Widowmakers and the. Majority of the supplies. As the last droid filed into the transport, Mysteel prepared to enter next. The ghostly image of Lucidae called out to her just as she ascended the steps.

"Mysteel,"

She stopped.

"What?" she asked sullenly without turning back.

Lucidae hesitated, trying to search for the right words.

"I know there is...friction between us right now, but don't let your grievance with me hamper your purpose. I wish the first thing for T'shere to see when she wakes up to be her little sister, cradled in her arms. And I know you want that too. Make me proud."

She said nothing.

"The Force is with you I know little one. But be safe all the same."

Slowly, Mysteel turned around with a strange expression. For a moment, her anger seemed to subside and it looked like she was going to say something conciliatory. But then her face darkened again.

"Stop telling me what to do old man."

With that, she turned back and disappeared into the pervading darkness of the ship. The Master watched her go, a faint frown marring his immaculate features.

"I worry for her," He said eventually to Revan.

"For her safety?"

"For her state of mind'" replied the Master. "I worry if she will do something...unbecoming, something that will corrupt the very core of her being,"

It didn't take long for Revan to understand what he was insinuating.

"If you think she will try to kill the bastard who murdered her mother, I think it is entirely justified."

Evidently, Lucidae did not agree with his point of view.

"That is a harsh judgement, especially from a Jedi,"

Even though Lucidae was physically dozens of miles from his position, the Jedi could sense the Master's disapproval. Revan looked away.

"It is only natural to feel angry at someone who betrayed you. No matter how expected it was."

The details of what had happened in the catacombs were still unclear, but Revan had heard the rumors. Granted, these were third person whispers that the rescue teams heard when they found Mysteel. But from what Revan could piece together, Matarl had promised to spare Thalia's children if she gave Malleus what he wanted. Then the intruders ended up turning around and killing everyone _but_ the children. The ploy was almost textbook in it's execution, and Revan thought a seasoned rogue like Thalia would have been wiser than to trust the words of that scoundrel.

_She could have at least died with her secrets. _Revan thought.

"Do you think that Thalia was foolish to bargain for her daughter's safety, no matter how slim a chance she had?" Lucidae pressed.

"Do you not?"

"I will not behoove her for showing compassion. For that is the very foundation any civilization is built upon. What the Jedi were built upon."

Revan snorted.

"Her compassion got her killed."

"Ah Revan," the Master sighed. "Do you really feel that your life is worth more than any other? Would you not give your life in the right circumstances? To let one live if given the chance?"

"I..." Revan hesitated. His dream came rushing back towards him, when he made that fateful decision the day two lives hung in the balance. A moment later, Revan let out a sigh. "Truth be told, I do not know anymore."

The Master just looked at him, silently prodding him to continue. "If you were to ask me what I believed in a year ago, I would tell you that I believed in the Jedi and that my faith in the council was unbreakable. But in these past few months...everything that I believed in has crumbled into dust. I watched as my beliefs became broken things, torn down by a madman and my reoccurring nightmares. No matter how many times I tried to deny it, the ugly truth is everything I built my life upon was a lie."

Revan felt a curious sensation in his chest. Anger? Sorrow? No. More like defeat. The realization that no matter how hard he tried, he would never escape what destiny had laid out before him. He clenched his fists.

"I used to think I knew how the galaxy worked. That I had a plan for every obstacle, every eventuality. I was so full of piss back then."

He lapsed back into brooding silence as Lucidae nodded sympathetically. For a moment, both were silent until the master broke the spell.

"I do not know what dark paths you have tread to reach this point Revan. But no matter how dark your future seems, remember this, A Jedi is built upon three foundations: humility, duty and compassion. Humility, for a Jedi does not fight for personal glory or even satisfaction. No songs will be sung for us when we die. We fight to protect the realms of all civilization, nothing more, nothing less. Duty, because we must never yield in the face of adversity. No matter how arduous it seems, we must always strive to carry the torch of light and wisdom into the darkest recesses of the galaxy. And lastly, compassion, that rarest of attributes. The strength to turn the other cheek and see past petty grievances so that healing is possible. Oft times, we remember the first two but not the last."

The Master swept a glowing hand into the forlorn wasteland of Darith, the former jewel of the Outer Rim, now a piss hole for scum and villainy everywhere.

"Look at how Malleus, Reeka and his ilk have despoiled this planet. Given a choice, they would have every world in the galaxy mirror this desecration. But no society can be built on hate and mistrust."

Lucidae turned back to Revan and stared at him with his remarkable green eyes.

"In theses darkest of times, the Republic looks to the Jedi to lead by example. If the citizens are the body and the senate the mind of the Republic, then the Jedi are its soul. We exist to choose the moral path, not because it is expedient, but because it is the right thing to do. Because that is the only way the Republic will prosper in the face of adversity.

The Master's look became shrewd.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Revan paused for a moment. The answer was just at the tip of his tongue. Then he understood.

"You...you are trying to tell me the difference between Jedi and Sith. That without our standards of honor, we are no better than highly trained killers."

Lucidae smiled at the answer.

"It is easy to grasp at power to achieve some goal, but harder to sacrifice oneself for the benefit of others. More often than not though, power taken for personal gain is temporary and self destructive. But the ability to let go of your petty desires and forgive? That is true power."

Revan stared at the solemn Master for a moment, then let out a sharp bark of laughter. He shook his head.

"You will never give up trying to be a Master will you? Even out here, in this Force forsaken wasteland, you reach out with the hand of guidance whether they want it or not."

"Old habits die hard I suppose." Lucidae smiled wanly. The droid projecting his image started clanking up the stairs. Revan followed with him.

"But if anything, I wanted to impress upon you the gravity of this situation. Mysteel is my finest student. I have groomed her all her life for greatness and I do not want her potential to be ruined by a single act of hate."

When the pair had reached the the top of the stairs, Lucidae's image turned and placed a hand on Revan's shoulder. It was impossible, but the Jedi could swear he felt the intangible grip.

"Remember this Revan, even as you march to war. The greatest achievement of a Jedi Knight is the absence of his weapon in his hand and heart. When the time comes, and I do not doubt it will come, she will be given a choice. Help her make the right one so old wounds can finally heal. Make her better for me."

Revan took his own gloved hand and placed it on Lucidae's shoulder.

"Done,"

* * *

The wretched creature was hauled kicking and screaming through the dark prison complex. Abominations rattled behind metal bars, screaming curses at him. Prisoners wailed incoherently as they were dragged by their tormentors into their cages. Even the walls themselves seemed to weep. Many of them were draped with the grotesque skin he remembered seeing in the _Carrion, _and the fiend swore he could see blood weeping from their hallowed eyes.

Death surrounded him in every form possible and Matarl was terrified.

"Let me go you poxy whoresons! When I get free, I swear you will regret-!"

A bony fist cracked him across the jaw and Matarl fell limp.

"Be silent!" snarled his captor.

The Rutian was dragged the rest of the way in silence. After a few more minutes of this demeaning travel, Matarl was flung onto the cold, unyielding floor. He raised his bloodied head and found himself looking at a familiar sight. Inside a cold dark room, Malleus sat at one end of longtable, with some unidentifiable carcass splayed open for his consumption. Skin banners hung ominously from the walls, the victim's faces contorted in eternal expressions of torment. Some of them looked accusingly at his presence.

_This is exactly how we met._ Back then he was an emissary to a fat bloated alien, barely scrapping a living in world ruled by despots. Matarl had thought his life could scarcely become any worse. Yet today, he was a prisoner to a monster that had turned him to a cannibal.

Matarl would have laughed if he dared.

The Reborn payed the new arrivals no mind. He was watching the strange device Matarl had seen taken from Aethon's vaults. An image of a man Matarl didn't recognize spoke softly to him. The Twi'lek didn't recognize the words either, but it sounded similar to the bastard tongue he sometimes heard the Aspirants converse in. It was while Malleus was watching that the aspirant stepped forward and went to one knee in front of his Master.

"Reborn. We have brought the wastrel as you commanded."

Malleus finally deigned to acknowledge their presence. He switched the holocron off and turned his head in their direction.

"So I see."

Malleus studied Matarl with his milky white eyes, his expression as unreadable as always. Matarl lowered his head, partly out of respect, but mostly for the fact that he did not want to stare at the horror. A moment later, Malleus glanced at his other minion.

"Leave us,"

The dark robed figure bowed and turned away, leaving Matarl grovelling on the floor. A thousand possibilities screamed through his head. What dastardly fate did the Reborn have in mind for him? Did he want to torture him? Eat him? The Rutian didn't dare to breath until the Reborn gave permission.

"Rise Matarl," The Twi'lek reluctantly rose to his feet. One of the chairs to Malleus' side slid wide for him.

"I believe you must be hungry. Come. Sit. Enjoy the meal."

The Twi'lek could hardly believe his lobes. Was this a trick? Some cruel jape the Reborn played before he killed his victims? _All of Malleus's gifts are poisoned. _And yet, Matarl _was_ hungry...Even after his impromptu meal, the insatiable desire for meat had not diminished.

_An Abomination is always hungry _hiscaptorhad said to him.

Hesitantly, Matarl stepped forward and sat at the chair provided. In front of him lay a platter of glistening ribs and greyish looking sausages. They slithered slowly on the plate like maggots. A week ago, Matarl would have retched at the horrid site. Today, he snatched up one of the slug like objects and shoved it into his mouth. Then another, and another. Soon, Matarl was gorging himself like a glutton.

_If Twi'leks weren't meant to eat alien flesh, why do they taste so good? _

Thick ropes of slaver and blood trickled down Matarl throat as he ate. Malleus ate as well, but with more etiquette. He ripped pieces of meat from the bone and popped them into his mouth, chewing slowly to savour the texture and flavor.

"Will you take wine?" Malleus asked at one point, raising a clay jug. "Of indifferent vintage I fear. Most of my caskets have not been replenished in decades. It has been too long since I have stepped anywhere close to high society."

Not waiting for an answer, the Reborn poured a brackish looking liquid into Matarl's clay mug. Then he raised his own.

"A toast. For years uncounted, I have yearned to punish Lucidae and the Jedi for their transgressions. Two hundred years ago, I took Darith from them, their most holy of sights and moulded it into my image. But today, not only have we managed to strike a blow to Lucidae's treacherous heart, we have also reclaimed our future. To victory."

With that, Malleus drank deep. The Twi'lek squinted at the liquid suspiciously before trying a sip. It tasted sour, cold and hot at the same time, like imbibing liquid flame. Very choice. He downed a mouthful before resuming his ravenous meal. Matarl was finishing his tenth sausage when Malleus broke the silence again.

"I assume you are angry at me for your...isolation."

Matarl paused, trying to frame a response that wouldn't antagonize his captor. "I was...confused Lord. Had I not carried out your will?"

"You did, but your imprisonment was necessary. The change was upon you, much quicker than Victus or I anticipated."

Malleus took a sip of wine.

"I deemed it...necessary to keep you in isolation for the first phase lest you cause collateral damage to others. And from what I have heard, you have already descended deep into the throes of bloodlust. Soon to be another Abomination."

When the Reborn had said those words, Matarl nearly choked on his food.

_So it is true. _The Twi'lek knew that his body was changing, but to hear the Reborn confirm his worst suspicions put a lump to his throat. Soon he would lack the cognitive ability to do anything but drool and maim anything that came within his sights. Suddenly, the food he was consuming did not look so inviting.

"Do not worry Matarl." said Malleus, smiling thinly at his distress. "I have not forgotten the leal service you have performed for me, no matter how self serving it was. You have my word that I will not let you become a mindless servant. I have enough of those already."

The words hardly assured him. _All of Malleus gifts are poisoned. _"Why did you change me at all?" the Twi'lek ventured.

"To keep an eye on you of course." replied Malleus. The Reborn casually cracked a piece of bone and sucked out its bloody contents.

"Call it insurance if you will. I have always coveted Lucidae's precious vault on Darith, but our previous attempts to ascertain its location failed. At one point, we attempted to put in sleeper agents into his organization but this proved...wasteful. Then you come along. A former member that not only knew their secrets but had active reason to do him harm. I knew the pre-ordained time had come. But I also knew you wouldn't agree to our demands simply on a whim. Our reputation does precede us after all. I implanted the _Mallephagea _into your body to ensure your cooperation."

"The what?"

"The _Mallephagea_," repeated Malleus matter of factly. "One of the first gifts bestowed upon our Aspirants. When consumed, the larvae form matures and settles on your brainstem, altering brain chemistry and higher neural function. One of them being the ability to transmit emphatic thoughts and commands."

Malleus tapped his head.

"The Aspirants who are forged from the same gene stock share an emphatic link with each other. Their thoughts, pains, and even proximity can be detected to varying degrees. Some are so strongly connected that the backlash from one's death could cause others. And as you were a part of Victus, by that extension you are an aspect of me. Which allowed me to make sure I could sense and control your directions at all times, so that the undertaking would succeed. Insurance."

Matarl suppressed a hiss of fury. He had always resented being controlled. In the army, in Lucidae's Order, even in Reeka's den of miscreants. Then the Reborn come along, and implant some sort of parasite into his body to make him docile. _How humiliating._

"And was this whole _mission_ worth it?" growled Matarl, masking his anger poorly. Malleus ignored the tone, pouring himself another cup of wine.

"Oh yes, this act of vengeance against Lucidae was determined a long time ago. A very long time."

Curiosity overruled his fury for a moment. Matarl knew full well why he hated Lucidae, but the Reborn's grievance with him was still a mystery.

"If I may ask...Lord, why do you hate him so? Was it because he stole from you, or because he was a Jedi?"

Malleus looked at the Rutian, looked _past_ him like he was seeing into some long distant memory.

"He betrayed me," replied the Reborn eventually. Matarl heard an undercurrent of anger, the first genuine emotion he had seen from the monster. After a few seconds, it became clear Malleus wouldn't elaborate.

"So you planned all this to punish him? From changing me to the raid...everything down to Thalia's death? Forgive me Lord, but I find that...unlikely."

Malleus downed his cup to the dregs and smiled, showing his red fangs.

"Is it so hard to believe? You know about my second sight. All mortals are interwoven into a complex tapestry of destiny, like a web if you will. These threads are intangible to the normal eye, even though they exist as surely as the air we breath. But in my less... lucid moments, my second sight pierces this veil of fate and I am able to glimpse a measure of what shall come to pass. All I had to do was follow the strands."

All this talk about fate and destiny made, Matarl uneasy. As much as the Rutian liked to think himself as a victim of circumstance, Matarl also liked to think he had _some_ control over his miserable existence.

"But surely, those...visions are mere possibilities are they not? You could always _choose _to do something different."

"Choose?". Malleus laughed. "Can a blind man choose to see anymore than you can choose not to rape and kill?"

Seeing that Matarl remained unconvinced, the Reborn continued.

"People like you think that the galaxy is governed by chance. Happenstance. An uncaring reality where entropy reigns supreme. But in truth, every living being, droid or object is governed by impulses, their programming and environmental variables. By extension, every action and reaction is premeditated by a complex plethora of circumstance and disposition. So what you call chaos is truly just a series of premeditated events, too complex for the normal brain to comprehend.

For millennia, scientists have hypothesized about a supercomputer that given enough input, it could eventually calculate the outcome of every occurrence in the galaxy. Call it premonition as you will. My second sight is the closest anybody has come to that goal. The ability to glean significance from the raging skeins of fate that connects us all into abstract terms, which a sentient brain like mine may understand."

"And your visions are never wrong?" Matarl pressed. Malleus leaned forward on steepled fingers.

"Everything that I have foreseen has occurred. The sacking of the vault, the girl's fall, the retrieval of the weapon, your revenge. Everything that I predicted has come to pass...although there are things I have misinterpreted."

For the first time, a faint moue of uncertainty crossed the Reborn's features.

"Victus. He was not meant to cross paths with Aethon until the promised time. Nor was his death part of my vision. It is a grievous error on my part. One of my first. Which only compounds my suspicions,"

"About what?" asked Matarl, more curious in spite of himself.

"Why, that the Order of the Reborn is dying,"

Matarl's expression became stunned. "_Dying?" _Malleus nodded, and filled his own cup again to the brink. The man had a prodigious endurance to alcohol.

"I told you about the changes that Ajunta Pall wrought upon us, that he gene forged the genetic traits of the Sith into our bodies and elevated our beings. What I didn't tell you is that for all his great accomplishments, his work was ultimately imperfect."

Malleus paused for a moment, as if he was pained to admit he was not the ultimate personification of perfection. Matarl wisely stayed silent until the Reborn chose to speak again.

"The enhanced bloodline are inherently unstable. Our bodies constantly shifts, adapting to the latest genetic material ingested. Because of that, the Reborn become stronger of body, mind and ability...but it also weakened us in many ways."

"How...?" Matarl ventured.

"There is a condition among many lifeforms known as hemochromatosis. The buildup of iron in the bloodstream that causes...unwanted side effects. Our condition is similar, but the side effects are much more extreme. Mental instability, blood cravings. Cannibalism. And like that disease, a constant influx of transfusions must be taken to regulate the body's metabolism. In our case, we needed the flesh of the Sith as a base template. But through the centuries, inter tribal wars, slavery, conflict and migration had reduced the Sith population to extinction. Our primary source of slaves used to satiate our appetites dwindled in numbers, until none were left."

Malleus drank deeply then put another piece of meat into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he talked.

"The consequences were disastrous. Without the therapy, many of our aspirants succumbed to insanity and depravity. Those abominations you saw among the raid were once proud warriors who fought in the great war thousands of years ago. Now they are mindless freaks, the legacy of Ajunta Pall. The eventual fate of all Reborn."

"And you," added Matarl quietly.

"And me," agreed Malleus, giving a mirthless laugh. "Do not think that I am blind to the changes wrought upon me. When I was first elevated, I looked young, strong and every inch the scion of perfection Ajunta Pall meant me to be. Now I am a rotting corpse. But I was among the oldest of Ajunta Pall's followers, and because of my age, I bore the slowest degradation. Still, Victus lost his eyes and my jaw has rotted away. Now even my second sight is failing me. It is only a matter of time before all of the Reborn devolve into mindless abominations."

Malleus frank assessment of his own disease disturbed Matarl. The fact that he was cursed to follow the same path, only amplified those fears.

"S-Surely, there must be some way to counteract these effects?" he asked in a desperate voice.

"Oh, many of us have found creative ways to thwart the flaw through a variety of procedures. We have tried substitutions, liquidating other aliens as a source of nourishment. Victus found that the flesh of those who were Force sensitive and had a high tolerance for pain could also mitigate the degeneration somewhat. But it only slowed the change. Nothing except a Sith or one that bears their genetic heritage can truly neutralize the effects, and even that is only temporary. Which is why more often than not, we end up eating our own kind. In days past, your corrupted flesh would have been used to...slow my condition."

Matarl felt his fear rising as Malleus admitted his weakness. "And...and your saying there is no cure to this change?" Malleus nodded.

"For the longest time. You can imagine our distress. Our knowledge of genetics is not what it used to be. Everything we know about our genome, comes from Ajunta Pall's words. Fortunately he kept very good research notes."

Malleus gestured to the centerpiece on the table.

"Many of the Great One's followers like me were researchers. But while we possess his wisdom, none of us had his vision. Subsequent attempts to synthesize a cure were wrought in vain. Once the change takes hold, our gene structure becomes remarkably resistant to foreign interference. Any attempts to subvert the underlying DNA would invariably cause more harm than good. So we are forced to revert to...extreme measures for survival. My kind has searched the breadth of the galaxy, hoping to find a means to stop the transformation. We plundered planets, inserted spies into Republic space, captured scientists, all the in hope of finding a solution. Our efforts were frustrated."

Anger and dismay surged through his veins and Matarl slammed his fist into the table, causing a massive crack.

"No..." he hissed. "You must have found _something_!"

"Calm yourself Matarl. I said our efforts _were frustrated_. That didn't mean they were for naught."

Malleus pushed his plate away then and dabbed at his mouth with a ragged cloth, a curious display of etiquette for the monster.

"As in most things, good fortune comes to those who persist. During one of our...endeavours, my followers chanced upon a Republic research facility. Through them, I discovered interesting information regarding a prototype."

Matarl stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was referring to until his addled mind made the connection.

"The _Praeconor Oblivio_,"

Malleus nodded. "I see your wits haven't left you yet. Yes, the thing you call the _Praeconor Oblivio_ is a very unique piece of technology, and our salvation. Ostensibly the project spawning this wonder was meant to be used for agricultural and terraforming purposes. Genetically modifying plants to adapt to the rigours of hostile climate conditions, that sort of thing. However, it appeared the men who developed the technology had more...ambitious goals in mind. They started using the _Praeconor Oblivio _on sentient species, in an attempt to alter their baseline genetic structure. To mould them in an image as they saw fit."

Matarl's curiosity piqued. "They could change them to anything?" Malleus nodded.

"The name _Praeconor Oblivio _is an honorific given by those fools in the black markets who have witnessed its destructive capabilities. But they know nothing of its true purpose. Contrary to popular belief, it is not a biological weapon that mindlessly eats away at organic material, but a tool used for genetic engineering. At the atomic level, each microbe is in fact a self replicating nano machine that can pierce a living organism's cell wall and change its genetically encoded information. In its unprogrammed state, the Praeconor Oblivio simply breaks down the individual proteins until the DNA strands become useless. Hence the reason most victims traditionally turns to slurry. But when the microbes are fed the proper instructions, they can alter the DNA markers to something we see fit. Eventually the entire host will be altered to reflect that change, once their cells have all been infected."

"Like a virus," Matarl remarked. He felt himself calming as Malleus recounted his story.

"A virus...yes. Call it that if you will. But if it is, the _Praeconor Oblivio_ is by far the most advanced strain seen in the galaxy. Almost all foreign substances are eventually eliminated by the host's antibodies and white blood cells, but the microbes are adaptable. They mimic different phaeges, breaking down the internal defence mechanisms until it gains complete access to the victim's cellular structure. Even our bloodlines would not be immune to it's effects. So in this virus, we will find our salvation."

Matarl considered the Reborn's curious choice of words. Suddenly, everything the Reborn had told him came together.

"You want to use the _Praeconor Oblivio_ to stabilize your degeneration don't you? To alter your DNA and remove the implicit flaw from your genome."

Malleus smiled.

"Very good. With this tool, we can revert the ravages wrought upon our bodies and become whole again. Most initiates that undergo our enhancement process cannot survive the changes wrought upon them. But now, when we bequeath our gifts, we will also introduce the Praeconor Oblivio into their bloodstream in an attempt to halt the transformation before it reaches the critical degeneration. In the end, these Aspirants will be elevated as one of the Reborn, without the annoying side effects. Recruitment can begin in earnest as the aspirants will no longer be in danger of morphing into those...things we keep as fodder."

Matarl felt a surge of hope in his breast.

_If this is true...I might be saved after all._

"If I may say so my Lord, you certainly took the long way. Couldn't you have just tracked down the man who invented this wonder and force him to replicate the virus?"

His host shrugged. "The research logs credited its development to an entire team. Archeid, Malafact, and someone known only the 'Professor'. Pseudonyms all, to hide their identities. We never found out their true names or where they went. Truth be told, we cared little for these scientists, only the fact that their creation worked. Unfortunately, the logs also said that the research was subsequently halted when the Jedi discovered what they were using as test subjects and their works were destroyed. But as fate would have it, not all their creations were lost. Shortly after our discovery, our spies within Republic channels overheard that some of the research capsules had been unaccounted for. How they were hidden is mere speculation, but I knew this sliver of hope could not be ignored. For the better part of a decade, my Order has searched the breadth of the galaxy looking for these relics. Until I had my vision. I believe you know the rest,"

Matarl nodded somewhat appeased, although he was still uneasy. _All of Malleus gifts are poisoned_ "This is all very interesting my Lord. But...why tell me?"

The Reborn gave him a crooked smile before rising from his seat.

"Come with me,"

The Rutian reluctantly moved away from the food and followed the gaunt figure out the opposite set of doors he was hauled in from. The passage they took was eerily silent, devoid of any of the screaming or disquieting sounds that usually accompanied the Reborn's presence. Even the walls seemed cleaner, although that could have just been a trick of the light. At the end of the corridor, they stopped at a set of brass gates. Malleus tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, and a red warning beacon flashed from red to green, opening the doors.

The room Malleus took him to was as colder and darker than the feasting hall. Even as his eyes adjusted to the low light, Matarl had to squint to make out anything tangible. He made out more than a dozen dim shapes in the room, neatly arrayed in straight lines. Each structure was shaped roughly like a coffin and came up to his chest. In each coffin was a limp and ragged form. At first, the Twi'lek thought he was in a crypt, but then he noticed one of the corpses _move._

_What in the-_

When Matarl blinked, he realized the thing was not cadaver but a human baby, emancipated and frail. Each coffin had a similar subject. Some were human, some alien but all were young. And all of then had a myriad of black needles and wires jutting out from their shaven skulls, coiling down the floor like a sea of worms. A trio of black armored droids stripped down to their chassis lurched lifelessly within the chamber, pausing at each subject to adjust a dial or catalogue some readout sputtering from the side of the coffins.

Matarl's eyes widened in horror at the unfolding scene.

"Wh-what is this?"

"Marvelous isn't it?" said Malleus, seemingly oblivious to his tone. "I believe you above all can appreciate the history that will happen in this room. After all you have an active stake for the project to be successful...in more ways than one,"

Matarl followed the Reborn's line of sight and his heart almost skipped a beat.

_Is that...?_

Strapped into one of the coffins was a tiny blue Twi'lek. _My daughter. _Like every other victim, her skin was impaled with millions of tiny sharp needles. The child moaned and cried in her sleep, like she was in some waking nightmare.

Matarlturned around and stared at the Reborn with barely suppressed fury.

"You took...you took my daughter so she could be a test subject?"

"One of many." Malleus agreed nonchalantly. "Your kindred will have the honor to be one of the stepping stones to our salvation.

His first reaction was to leap at Malleus and gouge his eyes out. The child was his! He had spent years nursing the bitterness of losing his son. Now, he had been given a second chance, only for it to be ripped from his fingertips.

_Malleus' gifts are poisoned._

Matarl took a deep breath, letting the rage simmer down. Doing anything rash right now would be suicide. He was only alive at the Reborn's sufferance, that would never change.

"My Lord." Matarl whispered in restrained voice. "I-I do not question your intent. But if I may ask...Why her? Are your prisons not bloated with flesh slaves?"

Malleus gave him his patented feral smile. It only made him angrier.

"Normally, the younger aspirants react faster to our implants. With children the effects are almost immediate. Almost all of them become Abominations in the end. But if my predictions are correct, injecting the altered _Praeconor Oblivio_ to their bloodstream after their initial transformation should halt the worst of the effects. If they don't degenerate within the expected time span, we will know our technique is working. But like any scientific process, it involves trial and error. We will need as many subjects as possible, to perfect the configuration of the virus. "

The words were hardly reassuring. _She's as good as dead, _thought Matarl numbly. The Rutian briefly thought about ending her life, just to spare her the worst of the pain. Malleus noticed the turmoil on his hideous face.

"Do you have reservations Matarl? Don't worry, there is a good chance she will survive the process. My chirugeons are confident they have isolated many of the genetic markers causing the mutation. At worst, she will die, and her death will be one more stepping stone for our reinvigoration. But if we are right, she will emerge anew. Reborn, stripped of all the mortal frailties that plague her now. Death and disease will hold no grip against the child. Her body will be rendered into the perfect image of our creator. She will be...glorious."

At that moment, Malleus face twisted into an unpleasant smile.

"Unless of course, you have objections to my plan?"

He let the threat hang in the air. Matarl was torn. He could refuse to help Malleus, but it would be an empty gesture. The bastard always got what he wanted. And truthfully, would it be so bad if the girl received Malleus' gifts? If what Malleus said was true, the child would evolve into something incredible. She would be faster, stronger. _Reborn_. _If this works, she will be better for it. The girl will even thank me when she is old enough. _Matarl kept replaying that thought in his mind. It almost convinced him of the fact that he wasn't a coward.

Matarl took a deep breath, swallowed and said calmly.

"No, of course not,"

* * *

As the the hangar bay re-pressurized, the transport's gunmetal grey doors opened with a hiss. Revan emerged from the darkness, taking stock of his new surroundings.

An honor guard had been assembled at the front of their transport below him. Each man and woman, was dressed in bright red naval fatigues, similar to the Republic Army. But in place of a regimental designation, the symbol of Aethon was stitched onto their shoulder. As the Jedi scrutinized his men, so too did the rank and file. Each pair of eyes stared at him with unwavering stares, completely neutral and devoid of intent,

At that moment, Kynes emerged behind him and started walking down the stairs without a word. Revan followed suit. When the pair descended down the last steps, one of the soldiers at the front row stepped forward.

"Attention! Commander on deck!"

Each soldier about faced and turned sharply at the Jedi, their synchronous movement punctuated by a single large bang on the floor. No doubt this was done to impress him.

_They stand at attention impressively enough. But do they fight well?_

"At ease, lieutenant" said Revan, recognizing the rank pins on the woman's breast.

"Lord Commander, welcome to the _Ironheart_." the woman's shifted ever so slightly and put her hands behind her back, as did the rest of the honor guard.

"By the Master of Aethon's decree, this ship and every ship in this fleet is yours. All command protocols have been routed to your terminal." the soldier gestured to his gauntlet.

"Thank you." Revan nodded, somewhat uncomfortably. The honorific still felt odd to him. "I believe the commanders have been appraised of the current situation?"

The lieutenant nodded.

"They are here, waiting for you to formulate the next phase of the mission. I can escort you immediately."

"That won't be necessary," Kynes stepped up behind Revan's shoulder catching the soldier off guard. "I'll take the commander to his duties,"

Her dead eyes brooked no argument. "...As you say ma'am," the soldier backed away uneasily.

"Help the droids unload the cargo,"

With that, Revan and Kynes left the soldiers to their duties.

* * *

The farther down they went into the ship, the less resemblance it had to the cohesive army image Revan had encountered before. In fact, it literally looked like the ship had been created by crushing several different alien vessels together. For every pristine white wall polished to a bright reflective sheen, it was joined by an unpainted bulkhead or pieces of scrap metal. And each bore signs, sigils and markings from seemingly every major alien race in the galaxy.

And the crew... Revan saw Rodian, Bith, Twi'lek, human and a smattering of other aliens he had never seen, each wearing their own version of what passed for a naval uniform in their culture. What really caught the Jedi off guard was when he saw a pair of Mandalorians, _Mandalorians!_ with the trademark T slittled visors amble by without drawing their blades and screaming for his blood.

_Mandalorians working with other civilized species...this must be a dream come true or a nightmare._

Truly this was a mismatched lot. Their only concession to unity was the symbol of Aethon painted, pinned or sewed proudly on their chests. And yet, the crew members were professional enough. They went about their duties, rushing in and out of rooms with supplies, conferring with each other on the latest data feeds. Every time the pair walked near a group, each man and woman would break off their activities and give them a sharp salute.

As they entered a lift, Revan turned to the person who would effectively be his second in command.

"Is there anything I should know before the meeting?"

Kynes pressed a button then turned her head fractionally, letting her impassive gaze fall on the Jedi.

"Just this. You may have little regard for the lives of others, but not one man, woman or droid on this mission is expendable. I don't need to tell you that Lucidae has given you a singular trust in giving you their lives Jedi. Do not fail him."

_Or I will kill you myself._

She left that part unspoken. Revan matched her cool stare.

"Are you going to challenge me every step of the way?"

The tone of his voice made Kynes looked away. "I will follow any order you give to a certain point. If you ask me to shoot an Abomination, I'll ask which one. Ask me to pull you from a pit of those monsters when they're feeding on your entrails, and you're on your own."

"You are the paragon of selflessness," Revan remarked. Kynes shrugged.

"Don't ask me to do anything you wouldn't do and we won't have a problem. But it is not me you have to be worried about Jedi."

The elevator opened and she exited swiftly and marched through the corridor, expecting Revan to keep pace.

"Make no mistake, the other commanders on this expedition are not sycophants like those boys and girls at the hangar bay. They will not fall so easily in line. You will have to bend them to your will."

"I would expect nothing less,"

Kynes seemed satisfied by that. They marched in silence until the corridor ended at a set of white gates with the number sign 12 glowing from the top. The sniper walked up to the door console,

"Lucidae seems to think you are our salvation, that your...presence will tip the balance of power between him and the Reborn,"

"I intend to,"

The sniper punched in a sequence of numbers and gates slid open, revealing a spacious room dominated by a round table. Several figures sat or stood around the circumference, talking softly. Chief among them was a battle droid, more soldiers...and a Mandalorian in burnished copper red armor. When they saw the new arrivals, each man and machine fixed a cold, calculating stare on the Jedi.

Kynes turned around and fixed Revan with a challenging look of her own.

"Prove it,"


	34. Chapter 34 Chain of Command

_Authors note: The following chapter contains harsh language. Viewer discretion is advised. _

_As a leader, it is better for soldiers to fear you than love you_

_-unattributed source_

* * *

_And with these tools, do I guard the realms of the Republic... _

Revan sat from his end of the meeting table, trying to fight down the sense of absurdness he felt when looking at the attendants in the room. Representatives from each of Lucidae's cells were in evidence. There were the midnight black Widowmakers from Aethon, gunmetal grey droids from the Eighth and a smattering of gold armoured warriors from the Tenth. And while not one person in the room was alike, they all had the hardbitten look of veterans, people and machines who had stared into the horrors of the abyss and survived within the deepest recesses of a hostile galaxy.

_The lost and the damned. We share that much least._

Revan took small comfort in knowing that no matter what part of the galaxy they came from, they were all dregs of their respective societies, misfits and outcasts all...like him. But if the Jedi thought the crew was mismatched, then the commanders of their respective cells were truly the icing on the cake. Being his first war council, Revan couldn't rightly say that this was unusual. The Jedi had known beforehand from their dossiers what colorful characters he would be dealing with. But even he had to concede a measure of disbelief at the so called 'leaders'. He wished Mysteel was here, if only so the Twi'lek could be used as a measuring rod of how ludicrous these people actually were. Unfortunately, she had reclused herself from the meeting, apparently to prepare for the inevitable battle. The Jedi knew he would need to talk to the tormented girl before that happened, but for now he had an war council to deal with.

Staring at Revan from the right side of his end of the table was a droid with mismatched baleful lenses. The left one one was a bulbous glowing red orb which whirred and clicked every few seconds like it was recording targets. The droid called itself Octavia, but was more formerly known as the commander of the Eighth. An impressive array of armaments were sheathed into its thighs, arms, and shoulders...in other words, Octavia was nothing short of a walking weapon. The droid had a serial designation but chose a human name in order to 'fit in'. Ignoring the fact that an entire cell was commanded by a _droid_, Octavia boasted an impressive career, having been repurposed for different tasks over the course of its existence.

The machine had started out as a waste disposal unit until it had 'accidentally' threw its owner into an incindenary chute (Octavia had claimed to have been following its programming). The droid had then made a brief tenure as a bar bouncer on Tatooine until customers started complaining that the sadistic machine was using the frequent brawls as an excuse for killing the instigators. Several attempts had been made to deactivate the menace, but everyone who tried mysteriously failed to report for work the following day. Finally, the Hutts brokered it to the army, who in their infinite wisdom, decided to retrofit the thing as a combat droid. This proved scarily effective, to the point where casualty ratings were a hundred percent on the machine's first mission...for both sides of the conflict. (Collateral damage, Octavia had insisted).

No sane soldier would dare fight with Octavia afterwards, so the droid had demanded that its superiors give it a _command_. (That way, when its allies died, it would definitely be their fault.) At this point, the army was either too stupid or too scared to dismantle the thing themselves. They agreed to an experimental procedure, installing a device that would allow Octavia to remotely send commands to other droids attuned to its transmitting frequency.

After the upgrade, Octavia proved to be surprisingly effective as an artificial commander, coordinating successful skirmishes against Mandalorians without any living Republic casualties. For his part, Octavia claimed to be satisfied knowing that something had died because it willed it, even though it hadn't been directly by its hand. The army was suitably pleased with itself for having created such an effective war machine...up until the point Octavia grew bored and defected for mercenary work, taking half a legion of droids with it. And now it was here, supposedly under Revan's command. When the Jedi looked at Octavia though, he knew better than to think he could truly control the psychotic war machine.

_It's probably calculating all the permutations in which it can dismember me right now._

At Revan's left was a figure no less outrageous, standing seven feet tall and bedecked in immaculate Mandalorian armor. The man had a voice like a blaring soundspeaker that he put to good use, making outrageous boasts, laughing at his puny compatriots and generally blustering at everyone at the table. But the most mind boggling thing about the commander was the fact that the man insisted everyone call him _Mandalore_. Or Mandalore the Destined to be technically correct.

_Mandalore the Destined... _Revan mused _More like Mandalore the Thwarted, Mandalore the Liar or Mandalore the Idiot._

Although the braggart claimed that he was a veteran from the last civil war, Revan was quickly doubting the man was actually a Mandalorian at all. '_Mandalore'_ sounded more like was an endless list of contradictions and falsehoods. Apparently after the last warmonger had died, a series of ritual battles were conducted in order to select a new champion among the many warriors who vied for the honor of leadership. This 'Mandalore' had been one of the prime candidates chosen to vie for the predominate rank among his people.

Based on the warrior's dubious dossier, 'Mandalore' was said to have defeated all other claimants and was on the verge of winning the title. But on the night before the final duel, he was 'poisoned', and spent the next morning squatting on a privy instead of fighting. Since he never showed up for the actual duel, the fool's challenge was deemed forfeit and his opponent had been crowned leader of the Mandalorian clans. Dishonored, the man was forced to flee his own people with a few loyal retainers and take up a life of piracy...that is until he joined Lucidae's operations.

This was a minor setback arranged by his cowardly opponent Mandalore claimed. And to this day, he refused to relinquish the title that he felt was honestly his. What's more, Mandalore liked to claim his present command was a _side job_ and it was only a matter of time before he would take his rightful place as the First Warlord. So not only was he an idiot, he was a fickle as well.

_A pity 'Mandalore' didn't win the throne..._ Revan mused. If this fool had led those metal clad warmongers into war, the Republic would have wiped them off the star charts years ago and the galaxy would have been a better place. Still...Revan supposed the giant man must possess _some_ skill at arms or Lucidae wouldn't have appointed him a commander. At least that's what he feverently hoped.

Introductions had been awkward to say the least. Many questioned his origins, his timely arrival into Aethon and why he had the right to lead after only a few days. Octavia had stared at the Jedi ominously when they exchanged names, like Revan had done him some grave injustice by existing. Mandalore had been worse, asking why Lucidae had chosen a 'boy commander' to lead men into war. Revan let these slights slide for the moment, assuring the officers that he was only a delegate from the Jedi Order who's interests happened to coincide with Lucidae. His command was a gesture of goodwill by the Master and most importantly, his command was temporary. Revan's story was a lie of course, but with enough half truths to make the Jedi credible in the eyes of others.

Revan began the meeting with minor issues, talking about the fleet's disposition, the confirmed ETA and the resource distribution within the fleet. Each commander and their subordinates challenged Revan in some fashion, gauging how malleable the young upstart was. Most of the officers demanded something of him. Some wanted to requisition a specific type of ammo, others wanted more rations for their soldiers, some complained about morale and scuffling between aliens...the list went on.

Most of their requests were reasonable, although some officers were blatantly trying to milk their perceived advantage for what it was worth. Others were diplomatic about it, using veiled threats of insubordination (mostly Octavia), while a few were outright hostile about their terms (mostly Mandalore). Revan received all of their requests with measured diplomacy, taking each into consideration and giving an appropriate response. He was open handed when the negotiations went his way, firm when the staff members demanded more. If someone proved especially obstinate, Kynes would usually fix them with a cool stare until they were cowed into submission. Most importantly of all, Revan kept his own feelings masked at all times, beneath an icy facade of neutrality. In a den of predators, the last thing anyone should do was to show them your hand. The Jedi navigated the treacherous waters of diplomacy reasonably well until the main sticking point came up: The method of attack.

* * *

"You all know what is at stake," said Revan as he looked at every occupant in the room levelly. "Malleus, the fiend that you all know as the Reborn is in possession of the Praeconor Oblivio, an item of incalculable destructive potential. You have all seen the briefings of its destructive capabilities so I will not harp on how dire its release could be for the galaxy. While the dimensions of his intent are not fully clear to me yet, the course of action is. We must recover or destroy the Praeconor Oblivio before Malleus can put it into use. Questions?"

"Aren't you forgetting something _boy?_," Mandalore asked brusquely. He tapped his leg impatiently on the floor, plainly eager for something to kill.

"My esteemed colleague is right." Octavia said, injecting an impressive amount of sarcasm into its speech patterns. "Aethon's primary function is the elimination of the Reborn. As Lord Commander, you would do well to remember that."

Many of the officers in the room murmured agreement, despite the implied threat. Revan shook his head.

"The death of Malleus and his cohorts are among our objectives. So is the rescue of Thalia's daughter. But they are secondary to what I have just said. Killing them without stopping their nefarious schemes is worse than retrieving the weapon and letting Malleus escape from our fingertips. Understood?"

Both of the commanders stared at him ominously but did not choose to contradict him for the time being. The Jedi then turned his attention to his one (dubious) supporter in the room.

"Illuminate us on our target."

Kynes gave a curt nod and turned to address the rest of the room.

"The drones have completed a preliminary scan of our destination. By every classification known to the Republic, it is a death world."

The sniper pressed a few buttons at her side of meeting the table and a holo projection came into existence at the center of the meeting room.

"All our findings suggests that this planet once suffered some artificial disaster, leaving the surface a hostile wasteland. Volcanic eruptions and tectonic shifts continually plague the surface, rendering a large percentages of the landmass arid and uninhabitable. We have also detected a highly toxic atmosphere, with concentrations of up to eight parts sulphur mixed with a variety of other lesser pollutants. The lower levels have tolerable breathing conditions, but prolonged exposure to the miasma is not advised."

"In other words, standard infantry will need hazard equipment if they are to survive the upcoming mission." Octavia words managed to convey a sense of smugness at the frailty of puny organics.

"Dully noted." said Revan before turning back to Kynes. "Show us where the enemy is,"

Kynes nodded. "Using this data, I have also triangulated the location of Aethon's subcarrier signal. It is broadcasting from a partially underground structure in the North Western continent, grid reference twenty four theta over sixty one alpha."

She pressed another few buttons and the image zoomed in. Revan made out a series of buildings. A massive wall surrounded the encampment, with towers jutting out their sides like a serrated spines. The image was so close, he could see the individual gun turrets

"Geothermal scans show that the surrounding volcanoes are largely inert so the landmass around the base is relatively stable compared to the rest of the planet. But that does not mean it will be easy to reach our target. Our photographic intelligence shows Malleus' base is equipped with high yield lance batteries and anti ground to air cannons. There is also strong evidence indicating he commands a ground garrison, with anti personnel tanks, likely one of the numerous mercenary bands the Reborn has associated in the past. The Scourged Souls perhaps."

"A harrowing descent then," observed one of her officers. Octavia took this moment to cut in.

"My colleague has neglected to mention that aside from Malleus' ground forces, there are numerous orbital defence platforms around orbit, as well as atmospheric mines positioned at vital trajectories of descent. A fleet our size could overcome these obstacles but based on my calculations, all secondary insertion points would take us through the most unstable regions of the planet's atmosphere.

"Meaning what exactly?" demanded one of Mandalore's subordinates.

Revan answered for him. "Meaning there is a good chance our ships would be ripped apart by turbulence and ionic storms rather from the barrel of an enemy's cannons,"

"Very good Lord Commander," stated Octavia in a tone like a child had just managed to shit in a privy instead of the ground. The Jedi ignored the jibe and looked thoughtfully at the projection for long moment.

"Malleus has indeed chosen his base of operations well." He observed "Aside from the natural obstacles, our quarry has designed a defence system capable of weathering a hostile takeover from any sizeable force." He rubbed his chin for a moment before turning his attention to the rest of the staff. "I have my own ideas on this matter, but first I pose the obvious question to you. How do we breach this gauntlet?"

"A ground assault is possible...but we would risk taking major casualties simply by exposing ourselves to that planet's cesspool." suggested Kynes. "Our ships can weather their defences and bombard the structure from orbit. That way we-."

"Of _course_ it will be a ground assault." interrupted Mandalore gruffly. The huge Mandalorian glared at the woman disdainfully, plainly offended that one of the weaker sex was present in their deliberations.

"Did you think we were going to stand idly in orbit and hope a missile miraculously falls on the bastard's head?"

The sniper simply rolled her eyes.

"No? Good. Because only a coward hides behind a ship while dealing death. Our forces must consolidate a beachhead then spearhead straight into enemy lines."

Mandalore turned back to Revan, puffing out and slamming his massive chest plates with an oversized gauntlet.

"And I'm the man to do it boy. You won't find better warriors than the Tenth to deal death up close and personal, everybody knows that. I, Mandalore the Destined, will personally lead the Tenth on the field of battle. It will be a glorious"

The other Mandalorians in the room echoed their leader's example, slamming their fists over their chests and causing a raucous noise that hurt everyone else's ears. Mandator approved...until the droid interrupted their mirth.

"You will forgive the Lord Commander, if he doesn't stop to bury your corpses then," Octavia interposed. The cheering stopped and the towering man turned his ire to his opposite number.

"You dare mock me!" thundered Mandalore.

"You accomplish that admirably without my help," Octavia responded dryly. "Have you forgotten about the planet's atmosphere? Your frail lungs will melt the moment they inhale its gifts."

"Bah! Toxins and poisons be damned! Mandalorians are made of better stock than the other puny races in the Republic. My men have fought in war zones so deadly, it would flense the skin off a normal man's hide! So yes, we will go down to that planet and breathe that _perfume_ you call poison! Then we will tear down those bloody ramparts, pull the Abominations out of their holes and slaughter them like cattle. I-"

Before Mandalore could fume so more, the droid interrupted him again.

"Assuming your warriors are doughty enough to survive the exposure '_commander_', there won't just be Abominations down there, but ranged artillery and aspirants, and those pesky pirate mercenaries as well. Also, the direct paths to the fortress walls are largely open ground, leaving you vulnerable to all manner of likely traps that our sensors have not detected yet. It does not take a strategical mind like mine to know that if your men try to charge the fortress while screaming for blood like idiots, the Reborn will cut you down with their guns before you even reach the gates."

The huge Mandalorian made a disgusted sound beneath his helmet. "Are you a battle droid or a cunt? Cower in your tiny ships then and whittle down their defenses for me if you are so afraid of combat. In the meantime, I will be breaking down Malleus' gates. Victory goes to those that take the boldest risks. "

"There are risks, then there is sheer stupidity." Octavia replied contemptuously. "Ignoring your blatant desire to claim the lion's share of the glory, this...'plan' will only get us all killed."

Mandalore looked fit to tear the ugly machine limb from limb at the insult. Revan sighed inwardly with irritation. Mandalorians usually brooked no arguments from outsiders, but the fact that Octavia used to kill warriors like them, made the animosity between the eight and Tenth even more intense. The Jedi cut in before thing a could get ugly.

"Thank you commanders, for your input."

Mandalore whipped his head back and glared at Revan threateningly, but the Jedi didn't rise to the bait. He magnified the blueprint of the surrounding region around the complex, highlighting potential approach vectors and projected radius of their guns.

"Mandalore is right about one thing. This mission will be ground based. Malleus' fortress is built deep into the planet's core, so an orbital bombardment will be ineffective at best."

"But the poisons-" objected on officer.

"Can be handled." finished Revan firmly. "The standard infantry will be assigned roles that will minimize their exposure to the surface while the eight and Tenth will be in the forefront. Mandalorian armor is built to withstand hazardous climates and droids are all but immune to the effects. "

Mandalore looked appeased by that decisions although some of the officers still looked doubtful. Revan continued to outline his plan of attack.

"Based on the projected range of their anti aircraft cannons, our assault forces will need to land well over two kilometers from their stronghold to minimalize casualties. Once we have established a supply train from orbit, our forces will be divided. They will will take a multi phased approach to whittle down Malleus' defences. Snipers to take away their eyes and ranged support. Ballistics to bring down their walls and artillery."

Mandalore grunted his displeasure at his limited role.

"Pfah, a coward's tactic."

"Kynes will coordinate the artillery barrage and snipers." continued Revan, as if the interruption didn't happen. "When their defences have been subdued, the rest of the forces will approach the complex from these indicated attack vectors.

The Jedi manipulated the controls so that the map focused two blinking icons on the the east and north wing of the compound.

"Octavia will take grid reference theta forty nine while Mandalore's forces will come from grid reference tau sixty. Any questions?"

Everyone looked at the map silently, absorbing the layout. Octavia in particular stared intently, the left eye flickered from red to green as its internal cogitators processed the Jedi's method of attack.

"Lord Commander." it said eventually. "The approaches you have specified are empty lava troughs and are therefore highly rugged and uneven. Infantry will have a hard time passing through and keeping formation."

"Uneven but defensible." agreed Revan. The tectonic rock formations provide natural cover from ranged artillery. In this footing, Abominations will be severely hampered as they rely on open and flat ground to gain the initiative. If they try to mass an assault, our heavy weapons emplacements can create bottlenecks and destroy them piecemeal."

The huge droid was about to raise another objection again but Kynes beat him to it.

"With respect sir, Octavia's units are largely ranged infantry while the Mandalorian's are assault. Malleus has almost a limitless cadre of Abominations to throw at us. If it comes to melee with them, the Eighth will be sorely pressed."

Rather than berate the sniper for her interruption, Revan nodded in agreement.

"A good point, one that I have considered at some length. As you have pointed out, the Eighth and Tenth units are too specialized in their methods of attack. If this mission is to have any chance of success, radical changes will need to be made."

Everyone around the table stared at the Jedi with mounting trepidation as he changed the view screen to show a flow chart resembling some sort of combat roster. A few gasped as they realized the meaning.

"As of this point, I am dividing the companies. Half of Mandalore's forces will join Octavia's and vice versa. While I would prefer to reintegrate the their forces at squad level, it would be unfeasible to train them to function effectively in such a short time span. So the squad compositions will remain unchanged, but the sergeants will take orders from their new commanders. This will create an equal balance of offence and support along either approach. This I do for the success of the mission."

His command was met with stunned silence. For a moment, Revan thought they would accept the radical change in their infrastructure without complaint, but of course Mandalore had to ruin the parade. The giant man stood up abruptly and knocked away his chair, rising like an enraged giant mammoth after someone disturbed his slumber.

_"I will be dead, before a Mandalorian takes orders from a piece of scrap metal!" _hethundered.

The threat set every officer on edge as dread silence descended in the room. Kynes looked like she was about to draw her weapon but thought better of it. Octavia's eye lenses flicked between amber and red, a clear sign it predicted hostilities would erupt at very soon. Revan remained remarkably calm in the light of this development. He sat impassively in his seat, fingers steepled under is chin, gazing calmly at his unruly subordinate.

"In any battle, the combatants must adapt to gain the greatest tactical advantage. Surely you can see that commander?"

"All I see is a blatant attempt by you to steal my men for that can opener," growled Mandalore. "No _droid _is fit to lead Mandalorians into battle!".

"The Mandalorians will respond to Octavia's orders yes, but command will be jointly shared. You will have no less power over Octavia's units than it does with yours. " the Jedi assured him. "Think of it from a numbers standpoint. The inflexibility of your formations is a weakness. If we kept your companies separate and one side of the flank falls, then one of the commanders will be dangerously undermanned. But divided, not only will both sides have equal firepower, nobody will incur irredeemable losses"

_And with either side held hostage, you won't try to mutiny or do something stupid in the spur of the battle._

Revan didn't mention that part of the plan though. He turned to his other two commanders and asked. "Does anyone besides the commander from the Tenth have any objections?"

"It is a...good compromise," admitted Kynes.

"Your plan makes strategic sense." agreed Octavia, albeit grudgingly.

_"No" _declared Mandalore in a voice like two chainsaws grinding together. He pointed an armored digit at his superior.

"The Mandalorians will fight for me, and me alone boy. Or else I, Mandalore the Destined will take the my warriors and withdraw from this mission,"

Many of the officers gasped at the massive man's ultimatum. In a moment, Mandalore's minions had placed their hands on the hilts of their blades, while Kynes and her Widowmakers had whipped out their rifles. Octavia and its droids did nothing.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The tension was so thick, it could have been cut through with a knife. All eyes focused on the Jedi, as the balance of power hung precariously by a thread.

Revan for his part was the only person still sitting. He never took his eyes off the other man's visor but neither did he draw his weapon.

"You are free to do so commander." said the Jedi eventually. Then in a quiet voice, he added.

"That is...if you want to be known as Mandalore the Coward,"

_"Coward?"_Mandalore roared. Without warning, the giant Mandalorian drew out his own naked steel, a nasty looking Vibro blade with serrated edges.

"I will not stand here, and be insulted by a bantha fondling _boy_of a commander!"

Against shouted warnings to desist and goadings from his men, the gargantuan warrior grabbed the side of the round table with a massive armored gauntlet and ripped the sturdy piece of furniture off its hinges violently. Many occupants yelled and ducked as the table shattered into a thousand splinters against the wall with the crack of thunder. Then in two steps, Mandalore had swept up in front of the Jedi with a blade poised to split his head like a melon. The massive blade _whooshed_ down like an executioner's axe.

What happened next was too fast for the normal eye to see. One moment, Revan was just sitting there, the next he was gone as the nasty blade swished harmlessly through air to _crack_ into the floor. Even as Mandalore realized his target had sidestepped, Revan's lightsaber had flared to life. There was a flash and a scream, followed by three hundred pounds of meat and metal flying across the room. Man, woman and droid watched as the massive figure hurtled into the table that had recently been reduced to kindling.

When the dust had settled, Mandalore sat crumpled on the floor with a smoking stump where his left hand used to be. As the warrior lay groaning in pain, Mandalore felt a new intense heat brushing his visor. When he looked up, Revan was there, his lightsaber pointed directly at his vulnerable throat.

"If I took your ugly head off now, I doubt anyone would complain," whispered Revan softly. The metal clad warrior wisely kept silent as the Jedi brushed his weapon ever so slightly on Mandalore's visor, drawing hissing sparks. Nobody dared to intervene, thinking the Jedi meant to make an example of the massive brute. But surprisingly, Revan withdrew his weapon and gave him a pointed look.

"Unless you can think of a reason to change my mind?,"

Mandalore might not have been the sharpest blade in the arsenal, but he wasn't completely stupid. The giant warrior got up slowly, clutching his ruined stump.

"Dividing my warriors..." He growled in a low tone. "...is acceptable,"

"Very good," The Jedi stepped away and let his gaze linger on Mandalore's followers. Not one of metal clad warriors challenged him for the attack. Octavia's eyes flickered from red to blue, a sign that the massive droid was cowed by Revan's display of strength. When the Jedi turned and meet Kyne's gaze, she gave him the subtlest of nods.

_Well done._

* * *

After the...incident, not one artificial or living soul dared to challenge the Jedi's command. So for the rest of the meeting, Revan was free to work out the logistics of their assault to his liking. He detailed at length how they would circumvent the orbital defences, how all the infantry and artillery would be transported once they reached planetside, the individual squad roles as well as their marching order and how to set up the supply lines. When he was satisfied with the arrangements, the Jedi stood up from his chair.

"Does anyone have anymore questions?"

Not one person or machine raised a voice.

"Good. Gather your soldiers and make your preparations. We make planetfall in twelve hours, but I expect intermediate reports on the arrangements during the interim."

"Yes, Lord Commander," they chorused.

"Dismissed."

Every officer saluted and waited respectfully as Revan left the meeting hall.

* * *

The Jedi blew out a silent sigh as he stepped out of the rat's nest. All said and done, the meeting was a success. He had managed to prepare the fleet to his liking and exert his authority in a way that garnered every officer's respect. Revan briefly thought of checking up on Mysteel, but had a feeling any attempts to console her so soon would be coldly rebuffed.

So the Jedi decided to talk with the rank and file. He gave himself a tour of the ship, visiting the engineering lab, the hydroponics, the armory, even the engine room. At each area, Revan would stop to have a quiet word with the men and women on duty, asking what they were doing, about their workload, if they needed anything and other trivialities. If the crew member was feeling talkative, the Jedi would bring up interesting tidbits about the galaxy, throw in a joke or even get them to talk about their past. In other words, he made a conscious effort to get to know his crew and most of them seemed to appreciate it. By the time Revan was done with the tour, he had a pretty good idea of the inner workings of the ship, its capabilities and its weaknesses.

Finally, Revan decided to visit the mess hall. Many off duty personnel were taking their meals when he entered, while a large cluster of Mandalorians, Widowmakers and a smattering of aliens were gambling. When the Jedi stepped into the hall, he noticed it grew quieter. Everybody seemed wary of his presence, tossing him suspicious looks now and again or stopping their conversations altogether.

Revan was undaunted by the cold reception. If he had learned anything from his time with the Hellborn, it was that a soldier liked killing, whoring and gambling. So when he approached a group of gamblers and pulled out a stack of credits, many of the eyes turned from suspicion to anticipation.

In no time at all, he was dicing with a group of Rodians, playing the finger knife game with some Mandalorians (miraculously, only one of them lost a finger) and swapping filthy jokes with the rest of the soldiers in the mess hall. Ava had armed him with an unlimited supply of those, and before long, every man and woman was roaring with laughter at his recount involving a man, a Bantha and a stick of butter.

All his Masters would have disapproved of his socializing. A Jedi was supposed to be aloof, apart from the people that they protected. His first Master said it most succinctly.

_Men should respect you, not love you. What can you do with love? You can't eat it, kill it or fuck it. No, better that they respect the chain of command._

But Revan had learned better recently. An army was only as strong as the unity within each unit and to achieve that, soldiers had to believe that their superior officers actually gave a damn about them. Ciras had impressed that to him in their discussions.

_Never ask a soldier to die for a stranger._ _A good leader talk should to them, know them. Make them love you. That way, when you ask them to follow you through gates of hell, everyone will be shoving each other out of the way for the honour._

It was sage advice and Revan made a mental note to thank the soldier when they met next. The Jedi wondered briefly what Ciras was doing at the moment, the man that in some bizarre genetic twist, could have passed for his brother. _Fighting the good fight. Or making some woman very rich. Either way..._

At one point, Revan bought into a large game of cards with five other gamblers, each from a different cell or part of the ship. With his growing popularity, most of the mess hall had congregated around them by then to watch the show. Revan won a few hands easily, but lost some on purpose so as not to diminish the good will of his comrades and make the other players feel like they had a sporting chance.

Still, Revan didn't socialize simply out of the goodness of his heart. The Jedi also wanted to know the soldier's mindset. As in most card games, the contestants chatted incessantly, mostly in the hopes of finding a tell or catching one of the others off guard. In Revan's case, he wanted to expand on Ciras' social theory. Where were all these people from? Which of the men were the troublemakers? What was their temperament? These were questions could only be answered through direct observation. The Jedi helped the tongue loosening by passing around a flask of ale. And after three or four hands, Revan had accumulated a wealth of information. Things like how many of the naval crew were once prisoners or Army conscripts that were recruited by Aethon's headhunters. Or the different planets in the Outer and Mid Rim which made good hiding spots for the former vagabonds as well the best star lanes to avoid detection. Or how Mandalore's warriors fought like demons but could never be counted on to hold territory. These things were good to know.

At some point of the game, one of the ship's engineers brought up the subject of women. Namely, why all the commanding officers in Aethon looked so hot.

"Lucidae is shrewd, I'll give him that." he remarked. "If I was the commanding officer, I'd surround myself with beautiful women as well."

"Aye. Truth be told, I get hard just thinking about them," replied one of the Twi'leks from the Eighth. "They can tell me to butter their toast any time of the day if you know what I mean." He then made a lewd gesture that made everyone laugh. Revan smiled disarmingly without giving any real indication of his hand before putting down a bet.

"No surprise, which of those ladies would you choose first?"

The Twi'lek looked at his superior officer warily, but shrugged as he raised.

"Hmmm, not to be racist, but I'd have to say Mysteel. Beautiful lass. Sweet too. And warm under the sheets I'd wager,"

There was a general murmuring of approval. One of the Widomakers spoke up.

"Give me T'shere any day of the week. Hot like a firecracker that one. And those breasts...I could suck on those melons all day like a baby on a mother's teats."

"I'll drink to that!" shouted someone behind the table, to the roar of approval from everyone else. Revan looked at the stakes on the table, then raised before asking.

"Nobody has love for the human?"

Another of his opponents at the table, a Nautolan laughed as he made his own bet.

"You mean the sniper? Aye, she's a looker. But prickly. And frigid, like an icicle."

"Bah, what's so special about her?" complained one of the Mandalorians observing the game "Kynes and all her crew are a bunch of pricks. They're so devoid of personality, they don't even have real names."

The one lone Widowmaker in the game scowled at the barb and ensuing laughter but said nothing.

"I've heard a rumor she's only into women," said the Twi'lek as he folded. "Gets real friendly with the other female commander if you catch my meaning,"

"Bah, piss on your rumor," stated one of the swarthy looking gamblers. The man was clearly a pirate back in his day, with a colorful assortment of tattoos and serial numbers burned into his skin. "Truth be told, if I had to choose between her or a Bantha to fuck, I'd choose the Bantha. At least the thing would make some damn noise between the sheets. With her, it'd be like trying to fuck a statue. Made of ice."

More laughter. The Widowmaker finally broke his silence,

"Daring words boy." he growled. The man's accent was thick and slurred, probably drunk from the alcohol. "I'll wager you a week's rations for you to say that t'her face,"

The pirate scowled but thought better than to insult the soldier's superior officer.

"Maybe if she'd show less of that sunny disposition and a bit more cleavage then I would," the man muttered sourly. "Small wonder she never gets laid, what with a scowl like that all the time."

His opponent grunted in amusement.

"You've got it backwards. Kynes doesn't like most men that's true…but that's not always been the case. No, she's cold 'cuz men stopped flirting with her. Right after she got her first nickname."

Many of the spectators raised an eyebrow. Even Revan was mildly curious.

"Oh? And what was that?"

"Ha! Now that's a funny story. I-"

The Widowmaker stopped, blinked and looked at Revan suspiciously, remembering who he was talking to.

"Well...sir. Ah, I probably shouldn't say nothin'."

"It's only a story. Stories never hurt anyone" said Revan in a light tone. Many of the spectators agreed enthusiastically.

"If it helps, consider it an order."

The Widowmaker grinned "Aye, can't disregard an order, no sir." The man leaned backwards on his chair counting his cards.

"Well y'see, before she was known as Trickster or whatever pet name T'shere calls her now, people called her the Maneater."

"I like the sound of that" said the pirate, licking his lips. His compatriots agreed.

"I bet you would gutter head," replied the Widowmaker. "Truth is, Kynes got that nickname because she always killed her targets dead. But one night, the commander reprimanded some upstart who tried to put the moves on her in front of the whole regiment. Boy wasn't too happy about that so he started a rumor. Boasted to his friends that he and the commander used to be an item."

"I bet she loved that." Remarked Revan.

"That's not the best part. The braggart claimed Kynes was born a freak. Said she had a set of teeth...down here."

The man pointed to his groin area, drawing a few snickers from the listeners.

"What's more, he said whenever she tries to take a man and things get really rough, her teeth tend to come out and ahhhh, _clench_. Leaving the unlucky sod who happens to be with her without the best part of them."

A chorus of sympathetic groans echoed across the table, accompanied with a fair amount of laughter.

"Well let that be a lesson!" the Twi'lek laughed drunkenly. "Never try to point the one eyed snake in a human's direction. They'll just eat it,"

People laughed uproariously at the jest. Even the Mandalorians laughed.

"Well, Kynes clamped onto the rumor mill pretty quickly but it was too late. The tale spread like fire, leaving our good commander devoid of ah...volunteers. And as frigid as a frozen vegetable."

This time, the sergeant lead the laughter. Revan took all this information in silently. He didn't believe any of the nonsense, but it was a fanciful tale to be sure and lurid enough to catch on.

"What happened to the culprit?"

The Widowmaker shrugged as he showed the table his cards. Several gamblers cursed when they saw how stacked his hand was.

"Can't rightly say sir. I don't know what she did to the poor sod who started all this, but we never saw him again. And well...Kynes was never the most outgoing woman in the regiment, but after that travesty, the commander never trusted anyone again. Especially males."

"Especially males," echoed Revan. The woman had no great love for his gender that is true, but he found himself remembering her choice of protégé. The sniper had always shown an odd protectiveness for Arctet. For a pragmatic and ruthless character like Kynes, it seemed out of character for her to go out of her way to help the tongue tied boy.

_That is strange._

"If what you said is true, why did she take Arctet as her apprentice?"

The Widomaker laughed some more. "Have you seen the boy? You can hardly call him a man at all. Always pissed himself at the first sign of trouble. Lucidae probably put her up to it."

Revan nodded but wasn't convinced. Something about the relationship seemed odd. Then it hit him.

_Of course…_

A measure of apprehension appeared on the Widomaker's face as the sergeant belatedly realized he had just spilt one of his superior's most embarrassing secrets.

"Ah I'd appreciate if the Lord Commander didn't go telling this story back to her. Or at least don't tell her I said it. Kynes would skin me for a new cloak."

"I bet she would," said Revan with a fake smile before flipping over his cards. Every man, woman and alien at the table groaned when they realized the Jedi had the strongest combination in the deck.

"A Jedi shouldn't be so good at cards!" one of them complained.

Revan shrugged and collected his winnings.

* * *

After a few more hours of lurid tales, the Jedi excused himself and went back to his private quarters. As Lord Commander, he had been provided with one of the more stately rooms on the ship, complete with a feather bed, a bathroom and an impressive study. The Jedi walked to the massive marble desk and saw that someone had already stacked it with paperwork: Situation reports from his officers, requisition forms to sign, tactical data from the drones. Revan shook his head. Truly, a Commander's duty was never done. The Jedi found himself respecting the Arkanian a bit more, in light of what she discovering how arduous her workload was.

_If T'shere survives her ordeal, I might give her an apology._

Revan sat down and began looking through the top pile, and pretty soon, an hour had passed. The Jedi just finished reviewing some of the latest updates from the senior officers when he heard a chime on the door.

"Come in," Revan said without looking up.

The door swished open and Kynes came in. The woman marched up to his desk and held up a data pad.

"The latest fleet reports. The last of the artillery have been moved to the hangar bays and the droids are standing by in their transports,"

Revan took the pad with a nod and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Thank you. Would you like to sit?"

"No," Said Kynes. The Jedi shrugged and began perusing the data for a few seconds, until he realized the sniper hadn't made any attempt to leave the room.

"Was there something else?" he asked neutrally.

"I was told you were in the mess hall, talking with some of my men." There was almost a note of accusation in her voice. The Jedi knew immediately where this was going.

"You were told correctly," said the Jedi, pouring himself a glass of water with a nearby pitcher.

Kynes' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What did you talk about?" she demanded.

Revan took a sip, matching her hostile stare all the while. Putting the glass down, he said. "Judging by your tone, you already know. So either you asked to see if I would lie, or you wanted to wheedle out the name of the person who outed you. Either way, I'm not telling,"

The sniper glared daggers at him as a faint flush crept up her neck but she said nothing. Revan abruptly changed the conversation, as he looked back at the data pad.

"So, based on this report I take it all the preparations are made?"

"Yes." she said curtly

"Good." The Jedi put down the slate and gazed out his lightless window, trying to find the right words for the elephant in the room. After a moment he said. "This rescue mission wouldn't be possible without Arctet's sacrifice. I want you to know that he is a credit to your tutelage."

"Thank you. Commander," the words were said grudgingly.

"Was there anything you had to remember him by? Some token?"

The sniper's face became wary.

"I hardly think that is appropriate. And is there a reason why you are bringing this up now?"

"Other than the fact that the two of you are related?"

Revan turned his gaze back from the window and saw for the first time since they had met, Kynes looked truly surprised. She opened and closed her mouth stupidly, unable to find the words to convey her astonishment.

"What-That's proposter...Just where do you get-?"

"Do you deny it?," Revan cut in pointedly.

The sniper looked like she meant to, but realized she had already lost any pretence of credibility. That didn't lessen her surprise.

_"How?"_ she repeated.

"My first clue was when I realized that you both had the social adeptness of a discarded shoe. I'm going to assume it runs in the family."

The flush on her face became even redder, but Kynes forced her anger down.

"Not everybody can be a socialite like the Twi'lek."

"No, but of all the recruits, you chose the socially awkward tongue, tied boy to train, instead of all the hundreds of capable men and women. That tends to raise a few eyebrows,"

"He was smart, and I saw his potential!" the sniper snapped. Kynes was quickly losing her calm. It was clear she was unused to being at someone else's mercy.

"Besides, we look nothing alike!"

"Arctet's hair is dark brown, your's is black." Revan agreed. "But then again, everything about your appearance is a lie. First, your roots are beginning to show. And it is a genetic impossibility to have brown hair and grey eyes, so unless you're part Akanian, you're wearing contact lenses. There's only one reason why you'd take such pains to mask your true identity. You didn't want him to see the resemblance to someone."

Revan's words were the last nail in the proverbial coffin. Kynes knew she had lost then. The woman sighed and dropped into the proffered chair.

"Remind me not to play these guessing games with you." she said sullenly after a moment's silence. "You cheat."

The Jedi raised the pitcher. This time the sniper didn't refuse.

"So...is he some long lost cousin?" asked Revan as he poured her a glass.

"Grand nephew," Kynes said the words without a single trace of sarcasm. She took the cup and drank deep. Revan hid his surprise. Lucidae said she was old, but...

"Hmmm, you don't look a day above fifty,"

"Fuck you Revan,"

"I certainly hope not."

They stared at each other with mutual animosity for a few more seconds the sniper downed her cup and sagged back into her chair.

"Yes...I am old Jedi. My family tree is cast far and wide, but I have managed to have outlived all those in my generation and many of their descendants. One of the greatest burdens for those touched by the Force is our longevity. The people I've loved, hated, shared tears with...they grew old before my eyes and it seemed no more than a beat of a eyelash when they became dust in the wind. Yet I remain...as constant as a frozen mountain."

Revan nodded as a measure of understanding came to him. He was beginning to see why Kyne's stayed aloof at all times.

"It is hard outlive those that you cared for the most. So you think it is better not to forge any bonds at all."

Kynes nodded wearily. "I suppose you would understand better than most, being cursed with the same circumstances. My 'gifts' manifested early and my parents were terrified. They thought I was a freak. It wasn't long before they started making noises to send me to your temple but I would hear of it. So one night, I stole away before they could condemn me to a life of servitude and tedium,"

"None taken," said Revan sarcastically. Kynes gave him a curious look.

"...Quite. Even in my teens, my marksmanship abilities were uncanny and I quickly found a niche as a sniper for a roving mercenary group. With them, I travelled to many exotic worlds and experienced much...and yes, loved much. But eventually the blighted civil war tore up the Republic. With the galaxy in such dire need of fighting men and women, hiring myself for self gain seemed unworthy. So I joined the army, faking my age and forging the pseudonym that everyone knows me by now. It didn't take long for my skills to vault me up to the elite Widowmakers corps.

For a time, I served. Killing Mandalorians and pirates for the most part, which I had no qualms about. But as time went on, the assignments were more...unsavoury, requiring me to eliminate people that were not physical threats, but people that stood against the Republic political machine. I felt soiled. Even during my days as a mercenary, the contracts we took left no question that the targets deserved death, but my wetwork bordered on murder. I was seriously considering leaving my station when I met Lucidae."

Revan nodded solemnly "He told me about your first meeting."

"Then you know it was a traumatic event. Truly, those...things were the most vile creations ever to blight the galaxy. And a greater threat to the Republic than the Mandalorians ever were. Despite my misgivings for outsiders, Lucidae was a man of great charisma and vision. When he told me he had left the Jedi Order to form a group of his own that would fight these evils, I willingly accepted his offer to join, taking almost fifty veterans with me from the Widowmakers in the process. My years in his Order were some of the best of my life. Once again, I was free from doubt, killing an enemy that deserved to be purged."

The sniper took a moment to pour herself another glass of water. While she was drinking, Revan said. "Fascinating, but it still doesn't explain how you took the boy as your apprentice."

"I'm getting to that," replied Kynes with a hint of annoyance between sips. "I don't tell you how to meditate, do I?"

Revan raised his hands in a conciliatory fashion. "Sorry, pray continue,"

The sniper stared at him for a moment then shrugged. "Despite my change in allegiance, I still kept kept contacts in my old regiment. And years later, I heard that someone who bore my surname had tried to enlist within my former regiment. After doing a background check, I learned this person was indeed from my side of the family, and that he had been rejected from joining due to psychological and physical reasons. I grew curious so I tracked the boy down, disguised as another recruitment officer to give him a second chance."

Revan raised his eyebrows. "From what you told me, you have no great love for your family. Why would you go out of your way to help the boy then?"

Kynes shook her head.

"Blood is important to me Revan. Since I cannot forge meaningful connections, the only thing worth living for now is to leave an impact on the family tree. A legacy if you will. So I have kept a close lookout for any of my descendants. I know at least one blood relative who is in the Order, and beyond my influence. But Arctet...he was lost in an uncaring galaxy. I knew from my background check that his mother bore an uncanny resemblance to me, so I changed my hair and eye coloring, to avoid suspicion. During my 'interview', I found out many things but chiefly, he had run away from his family as well."

"...Why?"

The sniper shrugged.

"Does it matter? His reasons were his own and I see no reason to divulge what he told me. Suffice to say, he wished to leave his family and make a name for himself. I will not say that I saw great potential in the boy from the start. He stuttered, couldn't hold a gun to save his life and had precious little experience on how to survive. Still, I took pity on the boy and brought him into Lucidae's fold, telling him he would get an opportunity to work in a special branch of the army...which wasn't too far from the truth. And when he did realize what we were about, Arctet threw himself into training with enthusiasm. Within the past few years, I have seen him become a fine young scout...albeit with a knot in his mouth the size of my fist. Still, I was proud of the man he was becoming."

A hint of sadness crept into the sniper's stoic features. "...and now he is gone."

The pair sat in silence for a few moments until Revan said.

"I will honor his sacrifice in this mission with results,".

"I expect nothing less," replied Kynes. She took another sip of water before standing up.

"I have taken too much of your time Jedi. I'll leave you to the preparations,"

Revan gave a slight nod and the sniper headed for the exit. Just as the doors hissed open, the sniper hesitated and turned back.

"One more thing," Kynes said.

"Yes?"

"Blue...my natural eye color is blue." the sniper face changed into something that almost resembled a smile. Revan nodded.

"Oh good. Because I made up the genetic eye and hair color inheritance rule. It would have been embarrassing if you denied it."

The pseudo smile died as quickly as it came, replaced by a mixture of shock and anger before finally settling on irritation.

"My roots aren't really showing are they?" Kynes asked in an annoyed voice.

"No. I guessed that part. But the rest made sense,"

"You guessed my hair and eye color? " the sniper shook her head. "No, you couldn't have made those intuitive leaps between me and Arctet unless you _knew_ I had changed them. How did you know ?"

_I saw it in a dream. _Revan almost said. But to Kynes, he only said.

"You don't want to know,"

Kynes stared intently at the Jedi for few more seconds before shaking her head and walking out of the room.


	35. Chapter 35 The Invasion

_Abandon all hope! Because we have come for you!_

_-common Mandalorian and Aethon war cry_

* * *

Matarl sat holding the little bundle's arm on the surgery table. He stared with wary suspicion as the droid inserted the last nutritional tube between him and his child. Even though he had essentially agreed to let her be another beaker tube for their twisted experiments, Matarl had demanded (or begged depending on ones point of view) that the chid be given the best chance of survival. In light of his 'efforts', Malleus had deigned to prep her for a less strenuous form of implantation.

Normally, the Mallephagea would be force fed into the host to stimulate the change. However the chance of trauma from the foreign parasite was high, especially in adolescents. The droid explained that to reduce the risk of rejection, the subject could be adapted to accept it. This involved injecting the potential host with a cocktail of drugs and chemical stimulants...but most importantly, _blood. _By introducing a Reborn's blood cells into the body and subtly altering its internal chemistry, the host would risk less chance of lapsing into shock during implantation. But like all blood transfusions, a compatible blood type, hence a donor had to be found.

Matarl was that donor.

"Initiating blood transfusion," said the skeletal droid. The decrepit machine stabbed a few icons on the surgery table, and the needle in Matarl's arm began pumping fluid out of his arm, through a calibrator and into the little Twi'lek. Matarl's blood was black as sin, but the Rutian didn't read too much into that as it was pumped en mass into his daughter.

_My daughter_...the words filled him with a curious sensation. Trepidation? Hope? It seemed like an eternity since Matarl had felt any positive emotion, so long that he found it hard to identify it at all.

She was resisting. Even under the influence of the anaesthetic and drugs, the child struggled in her bonds, struggling as the vile substance was injected into her veins. Matarl stroked her forehead with a clawed hand, a disturbingly affectionate gesture from the monster.

"Shhh, it will be over soon," the thing crooned. "Malleus and his experiments be damned. You will survive his petty games because I have. And because you are of my flesh."

Truth be told though, the child bore little physical resemblance to him, even before his transformation, unlike his son. The dark eyes, the dimpled cheeks...everything about her reminded Matarl about her mother. The Rutian found that irritating...but knew once the child was fully matured, any connection she had to that horrid woman would be purged for good. And then, he would be free to raise her in his own image...

Thalia had thought him a lecherous drunkard. And while that was probably true, Matarl was also very protective of those he considered kind. Before his exile, raising a son was one of the few real accomplishments of his life. But then, Thalia took that away...

"Never again," said Matarl softly. "From now on, I will be my own man. Free to start my own destiny. I don't care what Malleus says.'"

The malformed thing absently scratched at another sheet of skin that had starting peeling off his cheek.

"I'll start on Taris" he decided put loud "Davik may have frozen all my accounts and threatened to cut my head off if I ever returned, but fuck him. I'll recover what that bastard stole, then gut him like a fish. Maybe I'll even take over his little band of misfits and start running the racket myself. In a few years I will be rich!"

The Rutian's black eyes glistened at the possibilities before turning back to his daughter. Looking at the whimpering form, Matarl's hideous features softening somewhat.

"And with that money...I can give you the life I wanted to give my son," he said softly.

His musings were interrupted as the surgical droid stepped forward with a scalpel. "Beginning procedure, stage two. Insertion of Mallephagea commencing,"

Matarl nodded sullenly. "Fine. Let's get this over with then,"

The droid picked up a needle and held it out.

"Warning, you may feel some of the subject's discomfort during surgery. Disorientation is most prevalent. Would you like to take an anesthetic before the procedure commences?"

The Rutian glanced up suspiciously. "What? Why would I feel her pain?"

"Analysis: as subject is a direct descendant, you are at higher risk of emphatic feedback" replied the droid as it prepared its tools neatly onto a metal tray.

"Explain," Matarl demanded. The droid gave an equivalent motion to a shrug.

"Emphatic feedback. Definition: all Reborn share an neural link as a byproduct of their altered genome. Studies have shown the link is stronger among those that share similar base pair chromosomes. Assessment: In addition to the blood transfusion, the subject is also a direct descendant to you. Corollary: Emphatic feedback between relatives will be amplified, with physical stimuli in one subject registering as pain or worse in the other."

The Rutian considered the machine's words for a moment.

"Are you saying..." he said slowly. "That if one of us was in enough pain, it could kill the other?"

"Affirmative," replied the droid tonelessly.

Matarl cursed under his breath. Malleus said the child would be a stepping stone if she died...but the Reborn never mentioned that he could be as well. _Damn Malleus_. Matarl thought savagely. He _knew_ the gifts the bastard gave him were poisoned.

_All the better not see any harm come to the child._ Matarl reached out and took the proffered syringe.

"Give me the shot,"

* * *

_This is a job better left for the healers. _

Revan hesitated in front of the metal door. This latest meeting was something that he had dreaded ever since the fleet had departed from Darith. Still, the attempt had to be made. He had promised Lucidae that he would try to help make his pupil better and the Jedi was as good as his word.

_I wish Exon was with me. He would know what to say._

But his large friend was a galaxy away, shoved into some cell as repentance for the sin of following Revan in his exploits. Another victim of his decisions.

Shaking his gloomy thoughts away, the Jedi pressed the door chime. For a long moment, nothing happened, until the metal door creaked open by a few feet. A pair of sapphire blue eyes stared back at him, no stared _past_ him, sullen and lifeless.

"May I come in?" Revan asked quietly.

Mysteel didn't reply. She simply turned away from the door, but left it unlocked. The Jedi gently opened it the rest of the way and entered. The room was dreary and untidy, a fitting mirror for the inhabitant's soul. Half eaten dishes littered the floor as well as sheets of paper and blankets. A table was cluttered with half dissected equipment: Mysteel's lightsaber, her hidden stilleto gauntlet, a blaster and an assortment of gleaming flaying knives. Revan looked at the last items with a feeling of trepidation before directing his attention back at the Twi'lek, who had slumped back to her workstation. The Jedi held out a data pad for her inspection.

"This is the deployment schedule. I've assigned you to the command team for the duration of the mission, which means you will fighting with me."

_Where you will be within my sights at all times._

Mysteel took the pad silently and did a quick perusal before resuming her work. The Jedi noticed she had removed most of her bandages.

"How's the hand?" Revan asked.

The Twi'lek didn't bother to look up from her ministrations.

"Healing." she said eventually "Strong enough to pop Matarl's ugly head like a zit."

The words were spoken brusquely, without any trace of warmth or her usual playfulness. Revan sighed inwardly. She wasn't going to make this easy. He decided to try a direct approach.

"And is that what you really want to do?" he asked, keeping the accusation out of his voice. Mysteel stopped her work long enough to shoot Revan a venomous look before turning back.

"Subtle. I know that Lucidae is a coward. But I thought he would at least have the courage to give this lecture in person."

Angered by the memory of her master, the Twi'lek began twisting a loose wire on her tool in an violent corkscrew fashion, probably imagining it was Lucdiae's head. Revan stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before adding.

"His question stands."

In response, Mysteel slammed her fist down on the table with a sharp _crack_ and stood up directly to face the Jedi.

"Of _course_, that is what I want to do!" She hissed. "What kind of moronic question is that? I'm going to kill that bastard because he stole one sister and helped cripple the other. Oh right, and I almost forgot... he _killed_ my mother!"

In her anger, the Twi'lek had invaded Revan's personal space. Her face was almost touching his. The Jedi could literally feel the pain and resentment rising from the pores of her skin.

_Careful now...think of what Vandar would say..._

"He did," Revan said eventually. "But his death will not solve anything. Vengeance is like a drug. You kill him, and every day you'll wish you had a chance to kill him again. Then you'll start contriving some excuse to kill another foe, then another...until your hate has consumed you and left you a hallow husk of a person inside,"

His words were meant to soothe her ire, but if anything Mysteel looked even angrier. She pushed the Jedi away, forcing him to stumble against the bulkhead.

"Why are you doing this?" she snarled. "What good do you think could possibly come from this damn lecture? Do you think I'll somehow forgive and forget that the bastard tore everything I held dear in this galaxy into pieces? Well I've got news for you Revan. That bloody ship sailed a long time ago!"

Mysteel waved her screwdriver menacingly at his face, daring to contradict her.

"I took the high road once. After he raped my mother, I remembered Lucidae's words and supported his stupid vow of mercy. And look what I got for it!

The tears had started rolling from her eyes freely again. As the memory of her loss turned her anger turned to grief, Mysteel started to cry freely. Shamed at her weakness, the Twi'lek turned away and collapsed on the disheveled bed, hiding her face in her pillow. Revan stared uncomfortably at the tragic scene, unsure how to proceed. Usually, he would sit by the grieving victim and murmur consolation, but Mysteel seemed beyond empty words. He thought about reaching out to touch her shoulder, but if Lucidae couldn't do it..,

_Force...when did this become so hard?_

The Jedi settled for kneeling in front of the the Twi'leks bed. After a moment's hesitation, Revan decided to try and empathize with her.

"You were wronged. Grievously." The Jedi said softly at Mysteel's half buried face. "And I understand that grief, for the pain of loss is keen to me as well. I know what it's like to have everything you held dear broken into dust."

Mysteel's puffy face came up from under the sheets and looked warily at him.

"Oh really?" She said acidly between hiccups. "Did you run to Darith to drink away your problems? Tell me Revan, what earth shattering loss have you suffered?"

_My identity. _Revan thought. But when he opened his mouth to respond... the words caught in his mouth.

_If I say it, it will become true. _The silence stretched on uncomfortably and Mysteel turned away in disgust.

"Don't bother." She said sullenly. "You'll just lie anyways. Apparently, that's what your best at."

The words hurt Revan more than he could say. Mostly because it was true.

_I am losing. _He thought in despair. Revan briefly thought about confining her to quarters but knew it was a futile gesture at best. Mysteel would find her way to the planet one way or another, and when she did... The Jedi tried to make one last ditch effort bring the Twi'lek out of her vicious cycle of rage and despair.

"Mysteel, this isn't what you really want. A Jedi-"

A tear stained pillow caught him full in the face before he could finish.

"_No_!" shrilled the Twi'lek in a voice like a banshee. She rose menacingly from her bed, forcing Revan to back away. "A thousand times, no! I don't care what bloody code the Jedi follow. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a Jedi! And according to Victus, neither are you! At least not anymore!"

For a moment, Revan's face froze in shock, until it twisted into one of anguish. The shame of his exile always burned in the back of his mind. Sometimes, the pain of that truth lessened somewhat. In the heat of battle, he could almost fool himself into believing he was _still_ a Jedi. But now...

_It never hurt so much...until someone said it to me._

The look of utter devastation on Revan's face told Mysteel saw that she had crossed a line.

"Sorry...that was low," she muttered. In a somewhat embarrassed fashion, the Twi'lek walked over the room and retrieved her pillow.

"Look I don't care what lies you want to make up. You're good in a fight, that's all I care about now. But this mission is for vengeance, pure and simple. Vengeance for my mother. Vengeance for my sisters. So you can shove your pious bleatings up your ass for all it means to me right now. One way or another, Matarl will die by my hand,"

Her words brooked no argument. Revan knew then he had failed in his attempt to sway the Twi'lek from her vendetta. Like Mysteel promised, this would only end in blood.

_A real Jedi could have done it. They could have swayed her to their cause,_

But as Mysteel pointed out, he no longer deserved that title. The Twi'lek turned her back to him.

"Just go. I've got to get ready for the mission,"

"Mysteel..."

_"Go"_

There was nothing more to be said. With a sad shake of his head, the disgraced figure trudged slowly out the room and let the doors bang shut behind him with an iron finality.

* * *

_That went well. _Revan thought wearily as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Lucidae had entrusted her wellbeing to him but so far, his role as a conciliator was not going well. Revan could stare down a Rancor, stir men into fanatical devotion for a cause...but when it came to helping a tortured soul...

His brooding was interrupted by a chime on his wrist. It was the bridge. The Jedi absently switched on the intercom.

"This is Revan,"

"Lord Commander." said a female voice. "We will be arriving at our destination in T minus ten minutes. Your presence on the bridge is requested."

"On my way," said Revan curtly before turning off the channel. The Jedi shook his head to shake himself out of apathy. Now was not the time for self doubt. He might have failed to help Mysteel, but if this mission had taught him anything, it was that he had to keep trying, no matter how bleak the prospects. True strength was measured by how one resisted adversity, not by how quickly they let it wash over them. And there was still a galaxy that needed to be saved. If Revan really wanted to be worthy of being called a Jedi again, he needed to fight tooth and nail to make things right. With that thought, he started setting a brisk pace to the elevator.

* * *

A dozen men and women snapped to attention as the door hissed open and their Lord Commander swept into the bridge.

"Commander on deck!" barked one of the officers, striking her boots on the floor with synchronous precision. Revan realized it was the same lieutenant that had met him in the hangar bay. He had found out the woman had been a drill sergeant within the army before being head-hunted into Aethon which explained her fondness for protocol.

"At ease," the Jedi said, hiding his irritation. All the ceremony was starting to make him feel like a peacock, one of the many colourful slangs Ava liked to use for her superiors. "Have all the ships translated out of light speed?"

"Yes sir, we have reached the planet's defensive perimeter,"

Revan nodded, focusing his attention on the view screen. He found himself staring at the huge grey planet they had dubbed _. Ghastly red pock marks dotted the surface like tumors while huge roiling clouds of smoke choked the atmosphere. From time to time, streaks of lightning danced amongst the raging inferno.

_A cursed planet. And ill gotten. _Revan thought.

According to the newest intel and pattern matches from their orbital scans, the ruined piece of rock was an abandoned outpost that had actually belonged to the _Taung_, a vicious and warlike race…who coincidentally had the ill grace to spawn a whole culture of warlike clans which plagued the galaxy today…namely the Mandalorians.

Needless to say, Mandalore had pitched a holy fit when he discovered that the Reborn had stolen what was essentially his fore-bearer's territory and swore a bloody oath to tear down the fortress and raze it to the ground for the desecration. How Malleus found the outpost was a mystery, but it explained how the wretch was so well fortified. And while the planet was truly an unforgiving sight, what caught his attention was the structure in orbit.

Amongst the asteroid belt were a cluster of gunmetal grey spheres. Revan counted at least a dozen of them, each the size of a miniature moon, moving in pre determined patrol around a much larger central orb. The design reminded the Jedi of an atom, with electrons hovering around varying energy levels. Codenamed the _Devastator, _the strange piece of architecture was presumed to be an ancient Taung battle station, a legacy of their military might.

The central orb was the hub of the fortress, housing an estimated crew complement of three hundred people. The station contained an impressive array of armaments, including turbolasers, disruptor cannons, automated defence turrets and ECM jammers. Each orb hovering around the central station was essentially a gigantic projector that formed a synergy network with each platform. Together, they emitted an energy field from a built in magnetic coil which strengthened the central fortress' shield integrity. And apparently each orb also had what was currently dubbed a _Hellfire Cannon, _a complex energy matrix that could funnel their unified gestalt field into a highly concentrated plasma shot, capable of reducing their targets into burnt scrap. In short, the _Devastator_ was a highly sophisticated battle fortress, capable of repelling any invaders with an impressive arsenal of weapons. Revan meant to test that theory.

"How close can we get before our ships are detected by their defence grid?"

"Up to a thousand kilometres, our cloaking field should render our ships invisible to sensors. From a view screen, they could see spatial distortions, but nothing concrete."

Revan nodded. While most of the fleet were comprised of ships that originally belonged to Mandalorians, they had been extensively retrofitted with an impressive array of alien technology. One of them being an Arkanian cloaking device which effectively made them invisible to everything including the normal eye.

"And the fleet? What's their status?"

"All ships are reporting are reporting battle readiness. We are waiting for the last few to reach their designated positions"

He took it the news in silence. After a moment of consideration, Revan rapidly typed a few commands into his gauntlet. A moment later, he heard a faintly annoyed voice on his channel.

++Lord Commmander.++

"Octavia, have you created a network yet?"

++Affirmative. I have established field connections with the fighter drones and am ready to send remote commands for them to deploy. However your continuous interruptions are reducing my ability to multitask.++

Revan did not fail to hear the hint of rapprochement within the droid's meticulous voice.

"If you have any misgivings about this plan commander, now is the time." He said flatly.

++I do not doubt the veracity of your tactics Lord Commander.++ Replied the battle droid in a voice that suggested otherwise. ++All the internal simulations I have run show a probable outcome of victory. However your blatant disregard for non organic casualties is...displeasing.++

Revan sighed inwardly, wishing Octavia would find a better time to bitch and moan. During their deliberations, it had become clear that attacking the fortress with manned ships would likely result in a large toll of manpower. Manpower that would be needed for the ground assault on the planet, something that could not be afforded. Therefore, the Jedi had devised an orbital strategy that mitigated casualties. Living casualties anyways,

The Jedi knew from his research that the Eighth boasted an impressive array of Davaab-type starfighters, bombers and interceptor drones. With its peculiar upgrades, Octavia could slave the machines to its internal processors, guiding them like an extension of his body. Revan had decided these machines would bear the brunt of the fortress' defences while their battleships dealt death from afar, And apparently, Octavia found this strategy offensive.

"If you're insinuating I have less regard for artificial lifeforms, then you're wasting your time. Fighter drones aren't sentient. They don't even have rudimentary intelligence."

++Some say the same about humans,++ replied Octavia ominously.

Revan and the lieutenant exchanged looks.

"Tell me Octavia," he said eventually, changing tack. "If you were in my position, would you have any qualms about throwing human lives at the gauntlet to achieve your goal?"

++In a proverbial heartbeat,++

"Then I don't see how you can expect me to be any less stubborn than you."

Octavia was silent for a long time, probably in shock that a puny human had outmaneuvered him logically.

++The fact remains that as a carbon based life form, you would never risk your own kind into such dangerous mission.++

The droid was persistent, like a Rancor with a bone.

"Carbon based lifeforms don't come off an assembly line. But if we ever do, I'll be sure to take your opinion into consideration," Revan remarked dryly.

He could almost hear the battle droid grinding its gears in frustration.

"When this mission is over human and you are no longer part of Aethon's command structure, there will be a reckoning," Octavia threatened.

_Get in line_.

"As always commander, I will give your 'advice' the attention it deserves," Revan replied, cutting off the link before Octavia could form a rebuttal. He focused his attention back to the view screen as the Devastator grew ominously with their proximity. A few seconds later, the lieutenant spoke up again.

"Lord Commander, the last ship has just moved into position. Do I have leave to carry out your orders?"

The Jedi stared at the view screen for a few more seconds before looking at the lieutenant straight in the eye.

"Do it,"

* * *

In high orbit, an Aspirant sat from a brass chair, glaring out into the vastness of space. Droids surrounded him chattering in machine code, ancient machines that barely moved after millennia of rust and neglect. Most of them were physically hardwired into their stations, performing menial tasks of computation, sensor sweeps and environmental control. If they weren't necessary in keeping the star base functional, they would have been thrown to the void a long time ago. Scattered amongst them were the lesser races, mercenaries (glorified slaves) who ran the more complicated duties of repair, orbital scanning and manning the defences.

The Aspirant was one warrior among the rabble, relegated to command duty in a derelict fortress. Granted it was an important duty, to guard the Reborn's stronghold from the prying eyes of the Republic and its other enemies. But in centuries past, the station would have been bustling with his kindred: Warriors and vassals all committed to the Reborn's cause. But their numbers had dwindled since the apex of strength, brought down by their degeneration. Not one in ten members of the Reborn were fit to wield a lightsaber now, much less man the complex controls of a battle station. And slaves made poor crew members, their broken minds not much better than an Abomination. So their Order had been forced to outsource...employing lesser beings to man the stations and guard their fiefdom. But despite their generous compensations, pirates were notoriously untrustworthy, and the Reborn trusted no one with their safety unless it was another of their ilk. So the Aspirant was always present, always looking to make sure no treachery was underfoot.

Fear was the only thing that kept these lesser beings in line.

The Aspirant hated being amongst these filth, almost as much as they feared him. It was a trial in itself not to unleash his inner rage and slaughter the cattle. In the long hours sequestered in his throne, the fiend had imagined all the creative and brutal methods he could have put these scum to the blade. But the Aspirant always exercised restraint...at least while their Order was dangerously undermanned.

_That will change soon. With the Praeconor Oblivio, we can replenish our numbers and the Reborn will have no need of these filth._

The Aspirant smiled inwardly at the thought until an unpleasant mechanical drone brought him out of his reverie.

"Warning. Proximity sensors triggered. Unknown vessel identified within defense perimeter, moving at attack velocity."

"What?"

The aspirant whipped his head to the main viewscreen. In the void of space, a red ship was materializing with alarming alacrity. The hull was a rich crimson, its front fashioned into a huge oval sphere with a tail jutting from its belly. Even from this distance, he could see that the trespasser was large, surpassing the size and tonnage of the _Carrion. _

"Scanning, identification confirmed" intoned the droid. "The ship template matches a Kandosii-type dreadnaught"

The Aspirant's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't the long range scanners it pick up?" He growled to the man helming the console left of him, supposedly the captain of the pirate rabble. A ship that size should have easily been detected. The captain sweated as he looked at his tactical readouts.

"The vessel was generating a cloaking field which was lowered five seconds ago."

One of the droids controlling the sensors spoke up. "Warning: energy buildup detected."

The Aspirant was more amused than threatened. The ship was still far from optimum firing range, which meant their weapons should have little effect. _What does this lone wolf possibly think it can do against a fortress? Scratch the paint?_

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a bright streak lashed out from the ship and lit the view screen with crimson, causing the station to shake violently. A few of the decrepit mercenaries were thrown off their feet. The Aspirant grabbed a handrail, blistering curses.

"Direct hits to shield quadrant forty beta!" shouted one of the crew members as the lights turned red and the alarms started screeching through the bridge. "Defence grids one, five and seven reporting energy fluctuations!"

"Return fire fool!" Shouted the warrior. "Missiles! Full spread!"

"F-Firing."

A dozen plumes of smoke ejected from the sphere's missile tubes as the warheads screamed into the void. The Aspirant watched the myriad of flickering view screens with moist eyes as they flew unerringly at its prey. The ship made no movements to avoid the projectiles.

But when the payloads had reached about half the distance, four of them exploded in a gigantic plume of fire. Three of the missiles suddenly veered away, only to explode amongst the cluster of asteroids. The rest were reduced to vapor by the red ship as it unleashed another salvo of cannon fire. The Aspirant stared in disbelief until his fury reasserted itself. He roared and tore off the piece of railing he was clutching and threw it at one of the smaller screens. The image shattered into a million pieces.

"What incompetence is this?" The Aspirant snarled, waving his weapon menacingly at his subordinates. One of them looked frantically at the sensors and said.

"L-Lord, we detected a spike in electromagnetic spike that dismantled our guidance system just now. A-and the discharge originated from alternate attack vector. I think there are other vessels approaching our perimeter."

"How many?" the Aspirant demanded.

There was a strained silence until one of the pirates answered in a panicking voice.

"Three, four...no...Five! Dammit they're still coming!"

The Aspirant could see that for himself. The decrepit thing stared with mounting fury at the view screen, as more and more ships materialized into view. Most of them were small, smaller than the dreadnaught that had opened fire, but there were more. _Much_ more. Different squadrons flying in a spearhead formations, which made their approach all the more menacing. The Aspirantrealized that this wasn't just one stray wolf they were dealing with. No, this was a pack. A pack of predators that were poised and ready to rip their throats out.

"Master! W-what should we do? Which one should we fire at?"

"All of them damn you! Fire at them all!"

In unison, all the _Devastator_ spat out death.

* * *

Lightning and plumes of smoke streaked through the void as the battle fortress unleashed its potent arsenal against the invaders. In the first few moments, the fortress reaped a punishing tally of kills as its massive weapons fired straight into the encroaching swarm. At such a long distance, the orbs didn't even have to aim, the barrage from their mighty hellfire cannons catching the smaller ships indiscriminately in a wave of death.

Many of the smaller vessels were brought down, but many more closed the vast distance of the killing ground. And at such a close distance, the monolith weapons on the orbs were rendered useless.

As they closed in, the Davaab-type starfighters and guidance drones dropped payloads of bright lances and heat seeker missiles at the nearest spheres. Unlike the mobile attackers, the defence platforms lacked their lightning speed and took the brunt of the attack with catastrophic results. One of the orbs was engulfed completely in flame as a dozen warheads and lasers detonated on its surface. When the light died, all that remained was charred and flaming metal. Another sphere was summarily ripped apart as its shield matrix overloaded under an unending hail of blaster fire from a squadron of interceptors.

Lesser battle cannons and turbo lasers from the _Devastator_ roared in unison, pounding at every movement detected by the fortress' targeting augers, only to miss their mark as the smaller vessels flitted away from each lethal barrage. It was akin to great mammoth beast trying to trample down the lesser insects that were biting at its heels.

Still, the fortress' reach was wide and uncompromising, managing to catch their targets through its sheer waves of fury. While its conventional weapons continued to fire with impunity, the smaller defense spheres spun and fired azure bolts of lightning autonomously from the central body. One of the shots clipped the wing of a streaking fighter, causing the entire ship to plummet in a corkscrew nosedrive before incinerating against the Fortress' shields in a spectacular fireball. It was a chance hit though, with most of the volleys catching nothingness as the nimble fighters flitted past the roaring cannons, each ship's speed and compactness more than a match for the lumbering weapons.

At this point, the larger ships of the invading force had closed the distance and began lending their own firepower into the battle. Teroch-type gunships spat put bright red beams of plasma, hammering the fortress' shields. Warheads hissed out from port side of the _Ironheart_, emitting snaking plumes of smoke before slamming against the fortress in fiery explosions. Each attack was punctuated with the screaming of twisted metal as pieces of the _Devastator's _hull were viciously torn off.

One by one, the individual defense platforms were brought to ruin, under the unrelenting barrage of the invaders. And with each sphere winking out of existence, the energy shield surrounding the fortress dimmed a little more. Slowly but surely, the wolves were peeling the layers of defence off the fortress like layers of an onion, and soon it would reach the vulnerable core. While the living crew shouted orders and attack vectors, they began to feel subtle tremors shaking the deck plating. Tactical screens became blemished with static as the station's power couplings overloaded. And with such a sequence of catastrophes, the next one was only natural: terror.

"Platform Tertius has been destroyed!" shouted the pirate captain. His voice was almost drowned out by the cacophony of shrieks and explosions on the bridge "We no longer have frontside shields! Life support and oxygen on decks five through fifteen are offline. Lord, we have to evacuate!"

The man looked straight at the Aspirant who was too busy shouting orders to pay the wastrel any heed.

"Forget shields! Divert all power, including life support to the forward batteries!"

The mercenary pirate grabbed the warrior's shoulder, a daring move. "Did you just hear what I said you freak? We have to-"

A backhand slap caught the man by skull, sending him tumbling to the floor. The Aspirant took two steps and loomed over fallen the man.

"I heard what you said worm." He snarled. "And I ignored it. We will either bring these filth piles down, or die trying. Now carry out my orders!"

The captain got up on wobbly feet and backed away, the whites of his eyes plain to see.

"Forget this!" He stuttered after a moment's pause. "You aren't in charge of me! I'm going to-!"

His ranting was abruptly halted as his head was torn off his neck by a brutal swipe from the Aspirant's lightsaber. For a moment, the screaming subsided as the gruesome totem landed at the feet of the remaining mercenaries.

"Who is next in command?" growled the Aspirant.

One of the aliens, a Vurk raised his hand tremulously.

"I-I am Lord,"

The Aspirant stalked to up to him and abruptly gored the fool through the chest. As the pirate crumpled to the floor, the Aspirant repeated his question.

"Who is next in command?"

The remaining survivors caught on to his line of questioning.

"Y-you are Lord,"

"Then get back to your posts or you will all die screaming by inches!"

The mercenaries scrambled back to their stations and exploding consoles, knowing the prospect of being burned alive would be nothing compared to five seconds of torment with the monster.

* * *

And so even in its death throes , the fortress continued to unleash wave after wave of devastation in the form of laser fire, missiles and roaring cannons. The flurry of shots was unrelenting, and a few of the smaller ships caught in the warpath lit up like tiny fireworks before being snuffed out completely.

In contrast the chaotic scene on the fortress, the _Ironheart's_ bridge was the very picture of calm efficiency. As the crew bustled and carried out their orders, their Lord Commander watched the carnage with dispassionate interest. Octavia had done its job well. With the tiny fighters occupying the _Devastator's_ targeting augers, the Hellfire cannons and the bulk of their formidable weapons were rendered useless. From time to time, a stray shot would hit the ship's prow but the _Ironheart_ was far from optimal firing range so the strain to their shields was negligible. Yes, their target's neck was almost fully exposed now, waiting for the predator's final blow to rip its victim's throat out. Minutes passed until Revan heard the words that he had been planning for this entire time.

"Lord Commander, their frontal shields have been reduced below the ten percent threshold."

"Take us in lieutenant. Engage thrusters, bearing three point five mark two. Make sure we get a clear shot."

"So ordered Lord Commander,"

Ignoring the hail of devastation, the _Ironheart_ inched inexorably closer to its position. That in itself was worrying enough for the defenders, but what really sent the' crew into a frenzy was what they saw next.

From under the _Ironheart's_ prow, two ugly cannons unlimbered from its massive belly. These were no conventional weapons, the enemy knew. Each cannon was a mile long and the maws of each barrel were fashioned into a snarling beast. Aside from the unconventional size and design, the energy readings from the twin brutes was comparable to a thermal nuclear reactor.

* * *

"Master, the dreadnaught is approaching! I'm detecting huge energy buildups in those-those things!"

"Then destroy them you wastrel! Bring that ship down before it can fire!"

The command was obeyed without hesitation. In unison, the battered sphere's lance batteries and missile ports vomited its fury at the new enemy. But it was not enough.

Bright red streaks slammed into the shielding of the Ironheart's prow, igniting it's protective bubble in a flurry of colors before dissipating. Warheads exploded harmlessly in mid flight as the capital ship launched chaff and debris to confound the fortress' targeting augers. And even as the fortress spewed its hate, the humming from the _Ironheart's_ cannons grew with violent intent.

* * *

"Commander, we have locked onto the fortress' central power signature. Octavia has withdrawn his interceptors in preparation for the strike."

"Are the _Foebanes_ fully charged?"

"Yes sir. Non-essential power has been directed to their power cells. Coolants are functioning at optimum capacity."

Revan nodded. He had anticipated and dreaded this moment. The _Foebanes_ were the _Ironheart's_ most formidable method of destruction. Essentially two massive ion cannons, the design had been retrofitted and enhanced by Aethon's engineers for complete annihilation. It was what they called the 'killing blow', a strike that left the target utterly devastated in it's wake. Apparently entire battles had been ended when these weapons were brought into the equation. And while the _Foebanes_ were formidable, they were also volatile.

Aside from the massive energy consumption, the power draw also had a tendency to overload the ship's capacitors and internal systems. Sometimes, the guns would malfunction and start a chain reaction in the power converters leading to critical meltdown...So while these weapons would definitely kill _something_, whether it was the enemy or themselves was somewhat up to the mercy of the weapon's disposition.

But if anything could take down the _Devastator_, it was these twin monstrosities. It was the risk Revan needed to take to ensure this space battle could be ended quickly and decisively with minimal lives wasted. Lives that would be needed to fight on the planet below.

Revan took one last look at the dying star fortress. Its giant protective shield was flickering erratically as torrents of blaster fire and missile detonations continuously assailed it. The Jedi knew then that there would be no better time to throw down the decisive blow.

"Fire."

* * *

When the instruments of destruction were unleashed, it was with the cacophony of a million pistons firing in synchronization. Two brutal red beams congealed and ripped across the void like a tear in reality to strike the fortress' outer shell. The energy barrier glowed bright hot before winking out entirely as the onslaught popped the dome like a toothpick through a bubble. The same tear bore through the reinforced hull like a drill, ripping through sheets of metal effortlessly before plunging straight to the bridge.

The Aspirant was the only one that managed to get a meaningful reaction at their encroaching death.

"Fuck."

None of the other victims caught in its warpath had time to scream as they were simply reduced to ionized particles in a matter of nanoseconds upon contact. Pirates, droids and even the Aspirant were simply annihilated into insubstantial mist as the death lance passed through them and continued its onslaught.

Deck after deck the attack went, splitting each floor open to expose the crew to oblivion until the lethal beam cut into the fortress' power core. Within moments upon contact, the fusion reactor went critical, and the entire fortress was immolated in a spectacular supernova. What survivors remained were abruptly atomized as the superheated energy ripped through every bulkhead, compartment and wall. And for a brief moment, a new star was born in the Unknown Regions, a spectacular phenomenon that hurled millions of pieces of debris in all directions as a signal of its birth pangs.

And just as quickly, it was gone.

* * *

"Status report?" asked Revan, blinking his eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness. The entire bridge had gone dark, with consoles flickering erratically after the ship's herculean barrage. After a moment's inspection on her monitor, the lieutenant said.

"We have two blown power couplings on decks two and eight. Shields are down, as are weapons and engines. Life support systems are stable."

The Jedi nodded, blowing an inward sigh of relief. All things considered, the damage was acceptable. For the rest of the mission, the _Ironheart_ would be combat inoperable, but fortunately Revan didn't need ships planet side.

"And the fleet?"

"Over seventy percent of the drones squadrons beta and gamma have been destroyed. The _Indomitable _ has lost shields and the majority of its reinforced hull. _Whirlwind_ is currently venting plasma from its port side engine. The other ships are reporting combat effectiveness,"

"Send word to the fleet, all soldiers are to report to their transports. Get Kynes and Mysteel to meet me at the hangar bay."

The lieutenant saluted sharply. "Yes, Lord Commander,"

* * *

The sudden blare of klaxons almost gaveMatarl a heart attack. He had been looking on anxiously as the droid was opened her unconscious daughter through the chest and thought something had gone horribly wrong. But a moment after the noise started blaring, he realized the alarm was coming from out of the lab.

"What the hell is that?"

The droid looked up from its work and turned to a nearby security terminal, heedless to the sudden cacophony. "Warning, proximity alarms triggered. Long range augers have detected a massive disturbance. Security defenses breached."

Matarl stared at the decrepit thing as understanding dawned upon him.

"Do you mean...we're under attack?"

"Affirmative."

Fear engulfed the Twi'lek. Attackers? Had some rival faction come to raid Malleus' base? A pirate operation? Or maybe it was...

_No, don't be absurd..._

"I thought Malleus' hideout was hidden! Secure!" he snapped, rushing up to the droid's console.

"Give me the terminal! I need to see!"

Matarl shoved the machine out of the way and stared at the readings being displayed on the screen. The symbols were unintelligible but he didn't need the readouts to make sense of the display before him. Amongst a ton of wreckage in the void of space, he saw an armada of ships orbiting what he presumed was the planet he was now on.

"Twelve Teroch-type class starships," He muttered "Five Venator-style warships, three Jehavey'ir-type assault ships and...and a Kandosii-type dreadnaught"

What color remained in Matarl's decrepit face quickly drained away as his eyes focused on the largest vessel on the screen. The ship was huge, comparable to any capital class vessel in the Republic fleet. Its massive hull seemed to swallow its lesser brethren, brimming with more armaments than almost any ship he could remember. Worse of all, Matarl recognized that ship. He had been on it many times before.

_The Ironheart...Lucidae's flagship._

"Oh...oh no..." whispered Matarl. Without a second thought, the Twi'lek turned and bolted out the door.

* * *

_Author's note: I have some new images on my deviantart page. One is a picture of Ava, who I was going to draw in Republic soldier uniform. But I was also watching a beer commercial when I thought of it and changed my mind. The other is a redraw of Revan, based on how he should look within this story._


	36. Chapter 36 Lord of War

_A keen mind is like a blade. When_

_used properly, it will fuck you just _

_as surely as a lightsaber through_

_the bowels._

_-unknown source_

* * *

Revan gritted his teeth as the transport lurched like a drunken pisspot for what seemed like the hundredth time in five minutes. The descent onto the planet was proving to be a trial in itself, with frequent bouts of turbulence and unpleasant shudders courtesy of the ionic storms that constantly plagued the planet's deadly atmosphere. The Jedi briefly thought about abandoning the dignity of his station of Lord Commander and throwing up, until he remembered his title was worth as much as virginity to a seasoned whore.

_We should have just taken the Ironheart...except we can't now._

Evidently his companions thought the same way, judging by the poisonous glares they were shooting his way. Mysteel and Kynes occupied two of the seats opposite him, wrapped in impact webbing with varying degrees of nausea plastered on their faces. Kynes seemed to be weathering the descent better than most, with only a faint green flush on her neck. But like him, Mysteel looked ready sacrifice the traditional grace of aTwi'lek and hurl all over his robes.

"Great idea Revan," she grumbled. "Thanks for getting the ship to blow its load like that and leaving us girls out to dry like this."

"I'm no more comfortable than any of you," said the Jedi even as his stomach did another backflip. "Besides, the _Ironheart_ is better suited to maintain the blockade to ensure that the Reborn cannot escape,"

"But you didn't ask if any of us preferred to use the cannons or fight it out. You just _assumed_ we would prefer this," retorted Kynes with her typical understated moue of annoyance.

"Just like a man," Mysteel sniffed.

Revan could think of a couple of suitably pithy retorts to their accusations, but decided to let it slide. Instead he tried to lighten the mood with a half hearted joke.

"You know, some Jedi think that suffering is the highest form of virtue. And that-"

"Shut. Up." chorused both of the women. Revan sighed and pretended to be fascinated with the view. Not that it _wasn't_ a spectacular view. The windows showed a portrait filled with green tinged clouds and periodic dense clusters of ash that looked like they had been saturated in poisoned blood. From his aerial view, the Jedi could also make out the wasteland below, ashen brown rocks covered in bright red rivulets of lava which spurted out in jets from jagged volcanoes like writhing snakes. Not for the first time, Revan realized this was a violent world, a planet that was constantly at war with its own self.

_It figures that the Reborn would take sanctuary in a place that mirrored their souls. Primal, destructive and corrupting._

The lurching sensation finally subsided as the transport passed through the lower atmosphere. Minutes later, it came to a shuddering halt as the landing gear crunched on solid ground. With the thrum of the engines subsiding, the pilot's voice emerged from the cockpit.

"Lord Commander, we have reached the designated coordinates,"

Revan nodded in relief and unbuckled himself from the impact webbing before unlocking the hatch. The magnetic doors hissed open and a jet of rancid hot air billowed into his face as brutal as a lightsaber's kiss. A normal human would have choked to death on the ash and smoke, but the Jedi had taken precautions. He along with the rest of the expedition had been outfitted with rebreather masks designed to filter out the worst of the planet's vile toxins. Too bad they hadn't been field tested until now.

Taking a deep breath to make sure his lungs didn't burn, Revan stepped out from his transport and onto the blasted landscape. He was immediately aware of a sense of oppression in the air, a hatred that was as tangible as the wind itself. Malleus was here, the Jedi was certain of it. Kynes emerged shortly afterwards followed closely by Mysteel, their mouths obscured by a puffs of fog from their breath masks.

"Visibility is better than I thought," commented the sniper, absorbing the terrain before sparing a look at Revan. "I will go help make the preparations,"

The Jedi nodded absently but didn't reply, too busy looking at the unfolding scene around him. As one of the first ships to touch base, Revan had the privilege of watching his army coalesce onto the planet's surface. Some of the ground crew had arrived before their transport, and had already begun setting up an open tent that would serve as his command post. Others were preparing Aethon's defence perimeter, priming shield generators, setting up gun turrets and rigging proximity alarms. The rest were busy coordinating the logistics of air traffic and the imminent arrival of Aethon's transports.

_That_ was a sight to behold. The skies ran ablaze with white streaks as Aethon's warriors descended from the heavens and onto the blighted land. From the naked eye, one could make out dozens of gleaming red and white vessels, each carrying a lethal payload. Despite the speed of their descent, the transports flew down in perfect synchronization, gliding smoothly to a relatively smooth strip of steppe land amongst the lava troughs. A collective screaming of jet engines heralded the first major wave of arrivals as they ignited their inertial dampeners and crunched onto the dark crusty soil. Almost immediately, the transport's hatches blew open with the hiss of depressurized air followed by the crunching of armoured feet.

Out came the Mandalorians in gleaming red armor, warriors without peer in close combat. They emerged from their metal chariots like demi gods of old, chanting and banging their blades against burnished chest plates. Although the Tenth was technically part of Aethon's command structure, they eschewed the predominantly structured hierarchy found by those who had been in the Republic Army. Instead, Mandalroians were divided into warbands where each band roughly equaled to a conventional squad of ten. These in turn were led by a veteran warrior who had accumulated enough victories and battle scars to earn the right of leadership.

Leading that entire procession was a warrior half a head taller than any other, stomping across the Jedi's field of view like a man possessed. Mandalore's left hand had been replaced by a crude cybernetic claw that clutched an ugly looking blaster while his right sported his trademark notched blade. Despite his misgivings for the braggart, Revan had to admit Mandalore made for an impressive sight as he waved his weapons and bellowed some senseless war cry that seemed designed to stir his comrades into a battle frenzy. Either that or he was imitating two Rancors mating.

Revan's attention shifted to another recent arrival as the distinctive whine of servos heralded the arrival of Octavia's droids. Roughly equal to a normal human in height, their skeletal frames seemed slight compared to the lumbering Mandalorians with only their chest and heads armored in plating. But what they lacked in protection, they more than made up with firepower. Each droid carried a _Mark 1 dread rifle,_ a prototype weapon supposedly superior to the Republic soldier's standard issue blaster. The weapon had a complex coil mechanism which could fire volleys of superheated plasma at terrifying distances without losing cohesion. Coupled with the droid's targeting augers and natural resistance to recoil, the _dread rifle_ could be fired to devastating effect. Revan watched with approval as they marched out of their ships in synchronous harmony, with the cold dispassion that only a machine could possess.

Last but not least to cross his appraisal were the Widowmakers, their armor striped red and black to signify their dual allegiance to Aethon and their crafts of death respectively. The Widowmakers didn't so much march across the battlefield as they did flow with effortless precision. Years of fighting together had moulded each squad into a well oiled cog, where each member knew exactly how the rest of their brethren would react to any given situation, These were truly battle hardened veterans, elite soldiers that had seen some of the bloodiest Republic war campaigns. As a result, they were also the most tactically versatile of the armed forces, bearing weapons that ranged from blasters, blades and missile launchers. Their numbers were few compared to the Eighth and Tenth's forces but they would provide versatility and support in battlefield as needed.

The sharp tang of motor oil caught Revan's attention as he heard the distinctive roar of war engines. One by one, Aethon's mighty artillery were being unladen from the larger, bulkier transport ships and brought to life. Mortar batteries and artillery pieces, mounted on vehicles with massive iron treads rumbled past the group, followed by a procession of land skimmers retrofitted with customized heavy gun emplacements. It was said that men won skirmishes, tanks won battles but artillery won wars. Revan knew these massive war machines would be essential in bringing down the shields and guard towers of Malleus' sanctum.

Mysteel tapped him on the shoulder.

"Enough sightseeing, you should get into the command tent."

Revan turned and followed her into the relative comfort of the makeshift shelter. Several men and women were present already, adjutants from Aethon, the Eight and Tenth. These were the commander's proxies, men and women whose purpose was to relay his orders down the chain of command and into the battlefield. As Mandalore and Octavia lead his forces from the front, Revan would be leading _them_ from the back.

"Lord Commander," the officers chorused, sketching a salute.

The Jedi nodded to each of them and approached the center of attention in the tent, a massive holoprojector. Like the one aboard the _Ironheart_, the projector received a continuous stream of data from the orbital probes which allowed it to reconstruct a tactical representation of the battlefield in real time. Based on the detected life signs and projected depth of the fortress, Aethon had anticipated Malleus had in excess of up to eight hundred units at his disposal, almost four times the size of his own forces. Hopefully that was not the case.

As the projector did a three sixty animation of the entire landscape, Revan made out the exterior of the enemy's encampment. Unsurprisingly, an energy field surrounded its perimeter, likely designed to withstand orbital bombardment but also less effective at close range. The Jedi also saw the unmistakable shapes of pintle mounted autocannons hanging from the walls as well as sentinel towers that protruded from the ground in grim defiance against the raging winds and heat. Revan fancied that his target was watching from one of those towers, watching as the wretched interlopers invaded his territory.

_Can you see us Malleus? There are no more dark holes for you to hide. _

Revan took the time to consider the enormity of the endeavour. His actions, or destiny as many Masters would have liked to say had brought him to this desolate wasteland. For better or ill, a climatic battle would be fought here, one that would determine the fate of the galaxy.

On one side was Aethon, a ragtag brotherhood made from the dregs of all known races in the galaxy, sworn to protect the Republic that had cast them out. Led by a disgraced Jedi Knight with relatively little command experience whose only crime was going beyond the call of duty.

Their enemy were the lost and the damned, humans and aliens twisted into dark perversions of their inner selves, forced to serve a monster created by one of the most infamous Jedi in history. A monster that had been made mighty in countless wars throughout the millennia. And unlike Revan, Malleus could guide his minions through sheer force of will, similar to the Battle Meditation employed by a select few individuals. He was the perfect puppet master whereas Revan would be lucky if his commanders didn't mutiny in the middle of a firefight. Put in that perspective, it seemed Aethon's chances of success were meagre to none. But if Revan had learned anything from his Master, it was that wars were not determined by the force of arms, their numbers or even the supernatural abilities warriors possessed. It was _how_ they were used. In other words, victory went to the better leader of the two armies.

_Master, all those mind games you played with me. It's time to see if they are worth their weight._

His musings was interrupted when he heard one of Aethon's crew members enter the command tent. The man sprinted right front of him and issued a quick bow.

"Lord Commander, Octavia and Lord Mandalore sends their respects and would like to report that all their units have reached planet side. They are ready to move against the enemy at your convenience,"

_I'm sure they didn't put it quite so politely. _Revan thought dryly. But to the messenger he simply said. "Very good. Tell Octavia and Mandalore to make sure all their squads arrive at their designated coordinates and hold position. I will contact them through the command line once all preparations have been made."

As the runner nodded and moved away, Revan opened a channel. "Kynes,"

"Revan," she replied in her usual monotone. The Jedi noticed the sniper had never once used his rank, probably because she secretly thought it was as much of a lark as he did.

"Are the artillery teams in position?"

"They are. The first round of annihilator shells are ready to fire,"

"Commence the barrage. Shake those vermin out of their nests."

"Understood,"

Moments later, Revan heard the distinctive thundering of mortar batteries accompanied by the whistling hiss of massive artillery pieces launching. From the projector, he saw the payloads hurtle through the air and into the fortress' shields, each one exploding in a spectacular display of mushroom clouds. Thousands of them pockmarked the energy dome, erupting like craters before disappearing altogether. A few seconds later, the next wave hit, then the next and the next...until the barrage became a constant ear splitting cacophony.

As the ground shook with the violence of each barrage, Revan stroked his chin thoughtfully. He had made the first move in this battle. Now it was time for Malleus to make his.

* * *

Matarl staggered as a particularly violent tremor shook the dank corridor. He grabbed the wall with a clawed hand to steady himself only to be knocked down completely by a pair of burly guards that rushed past him. Matarl would have cursed them for poxy whores if he didn't feel so terrified.

Ever since the first ship had been detected, the fortress had been in an uproar. Soldiers, slaves and droids scrambled through the corridors creating a tumult of chaos. In the far distance, he heard Abominations rattling their cages, drowning out the warning klaxons with their horrid screams. Aethon had kicked down the beehive and now all the insects were buzzing up a shit storm. And Matarl was caught right in the middle of it.

_I should have known Lucidae wouldn't take this lying down..._

A bloodbath was about to start, Matarl was certain of that. He didn't know whether Malleus could repel the invaders or not and frankly, he didn't care. The Twi'lek's only intention was to be as far way from the killing ground once the killing started. He wasn't risking his life for Malleus or his monsters. Not again.

_A shuttle. I need to find a shuttle before they- _

As he turned a corner through the labyrinthine corridors, a massive clawed hand lashed out and caught him by the throat. Twin black pits stared at him without pity. Matarl recognized him as the same warrior that had dragged him out of his cell and into Malleus' presence. He began to feel an unpleasant sense of deja vu as the monster held him aloft until his legs were kicking uselessly in the air.

"Let me go dammit!" Matarl snapped. The Twi'lek tried to pry the bony fingers off his throat, but the grip was unyielding. The Aspirant ignored his demand and leaned in uncomfortably close.

"Where do you think you're going?" the thing hissed. Matarl heart almost froze as he struggled to dredge up a convenient lie. When he didn't answer, the aspirant tightened his grip.

"I-I need to see Malleus!" Matarl gurgled.

The Aspirant sneered at his pathetic excuse. "The Reborn is preoccupied and is not to be disturbed at this time. Especially by the likes of you"

"Not to be-!" Matarl fumed, momentarily forgetting his place. "In case you haven't noticed, there's an army descending upon us. Lucidae army! You have to-argghhh!"

The Twi'leks ranting was abruptly halted as the Aspirant flung him against the wall with an audible crack. Matarl felt the air being blasted from his lungs. As he gasped in pain, the Aspirant drew in close, baring his fangs.

"Don't ever presume tell me what I must and must not do," growled the wretched thing. "Understood?"

"Malleus..." Matarl panted semi incoherently. "... must...warn...,"

"He knows fool," replied the Aspirant disdainfully. "What did you think I meant when I said he was preoccupied? Reborn are marshaling the forces even as we speak. Abominations are being roused from their flesh pits and the slaves are gathering their weapons. This... inconvenience will be crushed, swiftly and brutally."

"But...those ships! There must be hundreds of them!"

"And more of us," interrupted the other warrior. He pointed down the corridor where Matwrl had come from. "Go back to your hole worm. Back to the safety of our gene labs before I lose my temper."

It was not a request. With a shuddering breath, the Twi'lek turned and slinked back into the darkness like the good slave that he was.

* * *

True to the Aspirant's word, Malleus' forces responded to the interlopers attack within minutes as hundreds of black clad fiends vomited forth from its walls. At the front were the slaves, broken pieces of flesh that had no more purpose than to serve as fodder for the enemy's guns. The hunched and deformed Abominations came screaming behind them, clawing the open air with diamond hard claws. A few of the more unfortunate slaves were trampled or devoured by these fiendish creatures. Amongst the mass of flesh were the more disciplined but no less deadly Aspirants. They herded and restrained the worst of their demented brethren into the field with whips, light sabers and sheer mental domination.

Moving in more structured ranks were the mercenaries, hefting an assortment of melee and ranged weapons. Criminals, rapists and murderers all, these pirates were the most hardbitten and deadly of the scum and villainy that plagued the galaxy. They had to be, in order to survive amongst the Reborn and endure their depravity. And while they may not have been as disciplined as a Republic soldier, each mercenary had instinctual experience that told them where they fit in amongst the horde. Their formations were uneven however, distrust amongst certain groups forcing them into groups ranging roughly from five to twenty.

And finally came the Reborn. Dark, terrible and draped within flesh of their countless victims, they towered over their lesser brethren like lords towering over their peasants. Every other lesser creature mewed and shied away from these deadly beings as they stalked to the forefront of the army. These were the backbone of Malleus horde, warriors who had endured millennia of trials and who were almost as deadly as Victus, Malleus second in command. Savage and powerful the army might be, but without the Reborn's their constant control, the entire horde would disintegrate and turn on each other. Reborn imposed control over the Aspirants who in turn relayed their commands to the mindless Abominations like a man would control a vehicle.

So it was under their baleful sight that the horde pressed forward, a morass of slaves and monsters urged by the whips and threats of their superiors.

"Force take take those bastards," breathed one of the officers. The number of symbols representing hostiles on the holoprojector had suddenly multiplied several fold. And more were appearing every second.

"There must be thousands of them,"

"It only looks that way," said Revan to command staff huddled around the table. After staring at the projected figures for a moment, he said.

"A thousand at most, and most are registering as minor to unsubstantial threats."

"A thousand, ten thousand, it doesn't matter. They outnumber us in every possible way,"

Most of soldiers in the tent seemed to agree. The one assigned as Mandalore's proxy turned to Revan and said in a dubious voice.

"I hope you are as good as Lucidae says human,"

"Better than you, I'm sure ," Mysteel remarked sarcastically, earning a viperous glare from the warrior.

Revan looked at all of his officers. He could see uncertainty in some of their faces, the nagging fear and doubt that their cause was lost before it even began. Others had the grim determination that Revan had seen in many warriors when they were backed into a corner. They would fight all the harder because they had nothing to lose. Hopefully, the majority of those doing the actual fighting were in the latter category. But he couldn't take that chance. An army that was demoralized before the battle even started would never hope to stand against a numerically superior enemy. If they broke, the ensuing massacre would make everything the Reborn had down seem a jolly lark until now. Revan knew he had to say something.

"Your orders Lord Commander?" asked another adjutant.

Revan considered his words carefully. What could he possibly say that would sway the hearts of strangers? The Jedi mulled over words from the most influential people in his life. He thought of the lessons Vandar, Lucidae and his first Master had imparted him and realized they all had a common theme. After a moment he said, "Open a channel to all squads, general frequency,"

When the link was established, the Jedi leaned over the table and spoke with a clear voice.

"Warriors of Aethon. This is your Lord Commander. I know that title will sound queer to many, for what am I to Aethon but an outsider? None of you have cause to respect me, or even die for me. And many of you may even have been my enemy had circumstances been different. But no matter what walk of life we come from, whether you marched under the banner of the Jedi Order, Republic Army, or even the Mandalorians, we are united today to rectify an injustice on the galaxy."

He paused to see if his officers disagreed with anything he said. Nobody did.

_So far so good._

"I speak of course of our singular foe, the Reborn. Make no mistake, they _are_ a blight on the very nature of existence itself. Most foes, no how vile they might seem, have a reason to fight. Even the Sith, for all their monstrous intentions are but another faction vying for control in a galaxy festering with war. Yet Malleus and his brood exist only to spread their virile corruption, to destroy everything you and I hold dear. A singular force of nature that will leave naught but ashes and smoke in its wake. So look upon the face of the enemy kinsmen. Many of you have seen them in combat, in all their fury. You all know the atrocities they are capable of, how they despoiled this fraternity not days ago. No sane man could possibly face these monsters and not know fear. But it is not the absence of fear that makes a true warrior but how you _overcome_ it."

Revan saw that he had the rapt attention of everyone in the tent. He could only hope it was the same for the warriors out in the field.

"I am told by many of my Order that destiny is a fixed construct, that nothing happens by coincidence. By that logic, it seems we are all destined to fall in battle against a foe that has every advantage. But I'm here to tell you _no. _Everyone one of us is born to believe that they are the arbiters of their own fate."

This time, Revan could hear murmurs of approval, not just from the officers but from the warriors in the distance. And to his own surprise, the Jedi began hearing the conviction in his own voice.

"And today, we _choose_ to stand united against these so called Reborn. We _choose_ to send these hellspawn into oblivion. For too long have Malleus and his deviants preyed upon the lives of others to sate their own sick perversions. Well, I say enough! I will _not_ let the Reborn gain another foothold into Core Worlds to spread his influence. I will not suffer Malleus and his black tide to pollute this galaxy with their existence any longer! Will you?"

"No!" came the thunderous reply, both within the tent and across the link.

"Divided we are nothing. But united, no force in the entire galaxy can stand before us! For Aethon!"

"For Aethon! For revenge!" The war cry was echoed with a conviction that left no doubt in Revan's mind that Aethon was ready to march.

"Prepare for war my brothers. Force be with you all,"

After Revan switched off the link, Mysteel spoke with a tone of admiration.

"Fine words Rev. I almost considered tearing up a bit. You know, if I wasn't dead inside,"

"Aye," agreed the Mandalorian next to her. "But words will not win us battles. Not those words at least. I hope you have a plan to deal with these fiends."

Revan nodded.

"I know all of you harbor doubts about my abilities, and some of the orders I give will indeed seem contradictory. But I assure you we can win as long as I can control the flow of battle. That means every man, woman and droid needs to obey my orders without question. Can I trust all of you to accomplish that?"

The soldiers looked at each other before most of them turned back and nodded in unison.

"Yes, Lord Commander,"

Revan nodded. "Then let us begin."

* * *

They swept out into the wasteland like locusts, braving the impact of mortar shells and debris alike, as the fell pieces of death ricocheted sporadically amongst their ranks.

A few of the pack (slave fodder mostly) were blown into messy bits of meat, creating gaps in the black tide that abruptly coalesced back together like oil. Their numbers seemed infinite, yet for all their numerical superiority, Malleus forces lack of discipline began to show. The army started losing cohesion with groups of abominations spurring forward from the main body like tendrils from a underwater monstrosity. Their screaming reached a fevered pitch as dozens of Abominations charged straight into the sea of red, heedless of their own safety.

Aethon made them pay for their bloodlust.

Ranks upon ranks of droids unleashed punishing salvos of plasma fire. The first wave of Abominations simply came apart as superheated energy ripped though stringy limbs and chest cavities. The second wave were similarly dismembered and any stragglers that had the misfortune to reach the front line were easily cut down by the Mandalorians. Heads, legs and bits of meats were flung in all directions as the monsters flung themselves in futility at the proverbial thresher. And in short order, the attackers were quickly reduced to a fetid pile of charred meat.

Yet for all the easy kills Aethon inflicted against the encroaching enemy, they were simply the tip of the iceberg. By the time the last tendril was cut, the main horde had finally closed the distance. And then the real battle begun.

"Mandalore reports contact." announced one of the Mandalorian adjutants. "Squads Helicon and Astereid have engaged the enemy. Force, do those monsters ever stop screaming?"

"Squads Hellbore and Vipus from Octavia's flank is reporting contact." Added another Widomaker. "Slaves and Abominations led by Aspirants."

Revan could see that himself. He looked silently at the holo projection that was broadcasting the battlefield in realtime. It was like watching a 3D chessboard, with different icons representing the individual pieces. Although truth be told, it was a very lopsided chessboard, with Malleus' forces outnumbering them at least five to one. And in terms of opening moves, Malleus was not being subtle at all. Hundreds of red enemy icons were being pushed forward to engage Aethon's blue, pawns to soak up damage while the elite forces finished them off. It was a common tactic for forces with superior numbers, and effective against an unseasoned leader with scarce resources. Revan knew he had to make every one of his decision count if he wanted any of his forces to survive the maelstorm.

"Orders Lord Commander?" asked his adjutants. Revan didn't immediately answer. Although his lieutenants couldn't see it, Revan's mind was churning furiously through a hundred different scenarios. As a Jedi, Revan didn't possess any particularly unique abilities. He did not have the gift of foresight like some or the Order's seers, nor the ability to inspire soldiers with Battle Meditation. What he did possess was one of the keenest and organized minds known to the Jedi Order, a mind molded by natural talent and a brutal training regime. A keen mind was like a blade his Master used to say. When applied properly, it would fuck an opponent as surely as a lightsaber through the bowels. And Revan's had been honed to perfection, folded again and again until its edge was keener than a banshee's wail.

So like a fine tuned processor the Jedi weighed all the variables being funneled through the projector. He calculated methods of attack, possible counterattacks and contingency plans, not to mention the pros and cons of each strategy. And only was he absolutely sure that he had chosen the right course of action did the Jedi make his move.

Just as the lieutenant was about to repeat his question in a more urgent tones, Revan said.

"Tell Mandalore to shift his forces Northbound to the dreadmount regions, away from the Abominations in sector six. Have squads Vraxis and Executor cut through the trenches to reach grid reference fifty five alpha."

The adjutant he gave the order to scrunched his face up in confusion.

"Sir, that will take the bulk of our melee forces away from the fighting. Plus there is a good chance Vraxis and Executor could be surrounded if they move to the coordinates you specified,"

"You were given orders lieutenant,"

The adjutant's hesitated but issued the command through the comm channel. Revan didn't wait for a confirmation. He continued to relay new orders through his subordinates while taking stock of the unfolding results on the screen. The Jedi gave no hint to his feelings while he conducted the battle, but the same could not be said of his underlings.

Minutes passed, and many of the commanders and lieutenants faces shifted into concern at what they saw on the holoscreen. The pattern their commander was forcing allied units to move into didn't make sense. When pushing into enemy territory, most commanders would have tried to keep their assault lines cohesive and unbroken, with a defensive line for support in case one of the flanks became broken. Instead, Revan's orders had forced certain squads to scatter into individual pockets of resistance. Some teams had been cut off in the lava trenches entirely, seemingly left to fend for themselves against the Abominations and masters. Many of Mandalore's assault squads were left virtually out in the open, far away from the greatest areas of conflict where they would be most useful.

A significant number of Aethon's squads had started to register orange warning icons, indicating mid to severe casualties. If Revan gave any hint that he was perturbed by these developments, he didn't show it.

"Get Squad Annhiliator to move their heavy weapons emplacements into grid vector thirty over theta." Ordered Revan at one point to Octavia's adjutant. "Withdraw Maximus back to the Stepstones."

The officer made no move to obey.

"Lord Commander, the coordinates you have specified will break our trench lines and sacrifice a precious holding point. It makes no sense."

The man's voice was filled with an unmistakable tone of reproach. Revan turned and fixed the unruly subordinate with a cold stare.

"Do it,"

The officer glowered at him but grudgingly issued what seemed to be a nonsensical command to the designated squads. The tactical display continually shifted as enemy units responded to the the Jedi's moves. Some of the enemy icons winked out, mostly small pockets of slave fodder that had broken off from the main body. But no matter how many Aethon killed, there were always more enemies. And their precarious position only seemed to be exacerbated by the Jedi's foolish commands.

As life signs were continually snuffed out, a few of the individual squad colors began flaring red as they became combat ineffective. Worse, some squads were entirely engulfed on all sides, only to disappear entirely moments later as they became hopelessly cut off from support. Rapid channel communications revealed the Reborn had personally entered the fray and were reaping a bloody tally, much to the officers' dismay.

Revan was not blind to his men's ire. He could feel the growing anger and resentment of the officers as more reports of casualties came in and the enemy continued to gain the upper hand. But he continued to issue orders calmly and efficiently, never faltering in his grand stratagem.

"The left flank is bending over." reported one of the Mandalorian officers urgently to him as the casualties piled up. "Squad Maximus reports being in danger of being pinned down by Aspirants! We must send Hellebore in to help them!"

"No, tell squad Hellbore to break off engagement and regroup at these coordinates,"

"But they have a clear advantage! We should press in and finish them off!"

"A clear but short advantage. Sending them in now would make them useless in the long run. We need to think of the big picture,"

"What the hell is the big picture?" the metal clad warrior growled.

"Winning. Carry out my orders."

Instead, the Mandalorian slammed a fist onto the projector.

"Fool! I won't let this disaster go any further. Your orders are killing our men!"

There was a stunned silence. The tension in the tent had become ugly and so thick that the slightest spark could trigger an explosion. Most of the Mandalorians looked ready to follow their comrade's example and the Widowmakers shifted their weapons. Only Mysteel looked unperturbed by the turn of events. Revan stared at the instigator cooly.

"Are you refusing to follow my orders lieutenant?"

"Damn right I am." The Mandalorian grated. "I don't know what kind of nonsense is going through your head, but you clearly have no sense of strategy!"

He jabbed a metal finger at the tactical display, with its blinking red icons and dire warning symbols.

"We have to pull the majority of our force back before they are all destroyed piecemeal!"

For a horrible moment, a measure of doubt flickered through the Jedi's mind. Had he been wrong to trust that these men would follow his orders without question? They weren't even soldiers...not really. Worse, had his strategy been wrong?

_No...I must trust the teachings of my Master. I must trust in me._

In his mind's eye, Revan could see the ghost of all pieces of the puzzle coming together to form a perfect picture of victory. It was so close... But to achieve that goal, every squad, every cog had to do its part. To work in parallel in order to achieve a goal that was greater than the sum of its parts. The Jedi needed to restore discipline. But to do that, he would need to take a brazen move.

_Let's hope I know the people around me as well as I thought._

"Lieutenant," Revan said calmly. "You are relieved of your station. Mysteel, take his sidearm and have an escort send him back to the ship."

Mysteel looked at the Jedi with her inscrutable face for a second...then turned to the Mandalorian in question.

"You heard him, drop your weapons."

The Mandalorian stiffened.

"Bitch! You're still listening to this boy after this...this catastrophe?"

The warrior raised his arm, perhaps to signal some sort of attack. But quick as a flash, the Twi'lek was standing next to the Mandalorian, the maw of her stiletto gauntlet pressed firmly against his helmet. Two of his subordinates had actually started reaching for their weapons until the flash of a golden blade swept up against their next. Mysteel stared at them coldly, down the length of her lightsaber. All the other Widowmakers had drawn their guns and were pointing them at the offenders as well. Wisely, the Mandalorians did not.

Mysteel looked at her victim coldly as she ripped his blade and gun from their holster and tossed them to the ground,

"You're right about one thing. I sure as hell don't know what Revan's thinking." She said quietly. "But I know that he is no fool. And I also know your dogged attempts to subvert his authority are what will lose us this battle. So be glad I don't paint this floor with your brains."

With a curt gesture, two of the Widowmakers came up and grabbed the Mandalorian by either shoulder, dragging the offender away to await punishment. A moment later another Mandalorian took the empty place and issued Revan's earlier order. The moment of disaster had passed. Revan gave her and Mysteel a thankful nod before turning back to the tactical display and carried put his plan.

* * *

Another ten minutes creeped by with Revan continuing to push and pull different squads into sectors he saw fit. Aethon's forces had held out a lot longer than many of the officers had predicted, but their grim expressions made their opinion clear. For all of Revan's maneuvers, the enemy's forces were gradually engulfing the invaders with superior numbers. It was only a matter of time before every man, woman and machine was cut down. The Jedi was undaunted, his orders coming so fast and unexpectedly that many of his adjutants barely had time to convey them to the field sergeants. Most still had the look of confusion and resentment on their faces but they obeyed, and that was all that mattered. Unfortunately, it seemed like every remaining squad was effectively a scattered piece on the battlefield, having shifted, moved and broken off from each other in such a way that nobody could support the other.

In other words, a complete mess.

Yet through that chaos, Revan could see his vision coalesce even as his voice strained to keep up with the thoughts in his head. The final completion of his puzzle was nearing as every one of his pieces began fitting into place. It was hard to pinpoint exactly which of his orders caused the shift in momentum, but one by one, the officers began to sense the change as well. Squads began realigning and the suggestion of a pattern became evident to even the most dubious of spectators.

And when everything did fall into place, the effects were devastating.

In the western pass, squads of Mandalore's warriors had finally moved into position and crashed into the Aspirants flanks as they harassed an isolated group of Widowmakers. Squadrons of droids that had been fighting alone suddenly found themselves linked as the enemy shifted to deal with the change in events. Multiple fire lanes presented themselves and the machines unleashed their fury, felling Abominations and Aspirants by the dozens and even a Reborn.

As parties of pirates and Abominations broke through the lava trenches to take cover, squads of Widowmakers that had been waiting idly brought their heavy weapons to bear and presented a unified line of devastation against the confused horde, ripping them into shreds.

The same change in fortunes kept repeating itself across the entire battlefield. In the span of a few minutes, Malleus' entire forces found themselves surrounded, cut off and scattered. Confusion became retreat and retreat became slaughter as plasma fire whittled the monsters down to smoking slurry while the Mandalorians waded in to butcher the survivors. Enemy icons began winking out in droves while Aethon's remained surprisingly constant.

The officers in the command tent stared at their change in events with slack jawed amazement. What they were seeing was akin to a tangled mess of loose threads suddenly pulled tightly together and revealing the complex lattice patterns underneath. The patterns were always there, but hidden from the normal eye. But when they were revealed, the effect was beautiful.

"I don't believe it," whispered Mysteel, staring at the rapidly diminishing enemy icons. Most of the men were repeating her thoughts in hushed tones. Even the Mandalorians looked surprised at the role reversal and they were wearing _helmets_.

Revan paid the murmurs no mind, having always been secure in the knowledge of the eventual outcome. The battleground was like an elaborate game of chess. And the greatest players were the ones that could always ahead of their opponent. He remembered his Master playing this game with him often during training, and inevitably Revan always lost. But it was the lessons he learned and not the outcome that was most valuable. And the Jedi had put them into good use in this battle.

What had seemed like a series of erratic and nonsensical pushes into the battlefield were actually a far sweeping moves to control the board and eliminate the enemy in one fell swoop. There were casualties yes, but all of them had been necessary sacrifices to put the pieces in perfect position to strike at the critical time.

It is commonly said that battles were won by the side that made the least mistakes. But in reality, it was the side who could _anticipate_ their opponent's mistakes and take advantage of them the most. Malleus mistake was assuming Revan's moves _were_ mistakes.

There was no doubt to the outcome now. The battle had turned into rout, which in turn devolved into butchery. Not one Abomination or pirate escaped the roar of Octavia's guns or the devastating slashes of the Mandalorian's blades. Even the Reborn were not immune to these weapons. Shredded under superior firepower, the empathic backlash of their deaths was like a bomb going off in the middle of allied ranks, killing masses of Aspirants and Abominations outright while leaving the rest aimless and stunned. In less than an hour, the thousand enemies Malleus fielded to protect his fiefdom had been reduced to nothing.

"Casualties report?" asked Revan when the last enemy icon had winked out of existence.

One of his adjutants listened into his comm. channel.

"Twenty percent of our squads are registering at ineffective levels or have been eliminated. Thirty percent are at moderate casualties. Fifty percent report only slight to negligible wounds."

The soldier couldn't seem to believe his own words. Everyone had predicted the majority of their forces would be lost. But this...this was...

"Amazing," breathed Mysteel. "I've...I've never seen any attack so swift. So...brutal."

If there was any trace of doubt left on Revan's subordinates, it was gone now. They all stared at the Jedi like he was some paragon of war, a primal force of death.

"Lord Commander," whispered one of the adjutants. "I'm-I'm sorry that we-"

"Not the time," said Revan. He pointed to the horizon where frequent sparks and concussive blasts echoed through the air.

"We still have a fortress to bring down. Consult with the squad leaders. Have the wounded taken to infirmaries and the rest establish a perimeter."

"Yes-Yes sir!" stuttered the man. He and the others scrambled back to their duties with an alacrity that would have put a savant to shame. Mysteel stepped up towards him, a nervous expression on her face. Revan looked at her neutrally. After an awkward pause she said.

"Rev...back on the _Ironheart_. I said-"

"Nothing that wasn't true," cut in the Jedi. "let that be the end of it,"

Mysteel nodded uncertainly. After a moment she said.

"I never doubted you, y'know? I knew there was a good reason that Lucidae chose you to lead this mission."

"You were the only one who supported me back there when things looked dire." Revan said quietly. After a moment gave her a lopsided smile. "Killing these fiends seemed like the least I could do,"

For the first time since Revan had seen her in the infirmary, the Twi'lek laughed.

"When you put it that way, it almost sounds like you killed all those bastards for me." she replied, a measure of her playful demeanour returning. The Twi'lek began twirling one of her tentacles.

"That's kind of hot."

"...If you say so."

the Jedi shrugged before pointing into the horizon.

"We need to link up with Kynes and the rest of the command squad. Once we get those shields down, we will bring the fight to Malleus sanctum. And Force willing, we will find your sister unharmed."

At the mention of her sister, Mysteel's expression hardened again.

"Force willing," she repeated.

* * *

Within ten minutes, Revan, Mysteel and a detachment of Widowmakers reached the summit where Kynes was coordinating the artillery barrage. Ear splitting explosions echoed through the air as the mighty war machines unleashed furious barrages towards the distant towers. The Jedi was pleased that even at this distance, he could see some of them were crumbling.

The sniper was standing several meters away from vehicles, staring at a series of schematics on a metal table. When the Jedi and the rest of his allies approached, she looked up.

"Revan," said the sniper. She made no attempt to salute but her expression seemed softer than usual.

"I hear congratulations are in order,"

"Status report?"

The sniper gestured at the maps.

"Our guns have opened a breach in their shields at grid reference sixty two gamma," she said, jabbing a finger at the southwest part of fortress schematic. "Large enough to insert our forces. I have deployed snipers to deal with sentries. Based on the projected size of the fortress' interior and the casualties Malleus has sustained, we estimate that there should be no more than a hundred hostiles left."

Revan nodded

"Then I will order our forces to maintain the perimeter and make sure nothing escapes while kill teams are inserted to deal with the survivors."

"I will be part of that deployment," stated Kynes flatly. While her tone brooked no argument, Revan was hardly surprised by her decision. Like Mysteel, she had a serious score to settle with a certain monster. The Jedi almost felt sorry for Matarl. Still...

"We will be fighting in closed corridors, likely hand to hand." said Revan doubtfully. "I doubt your sniper rifle or sidearms will help if an Abomination takes you by surprise. Can you even fight in melee?"

"Of course," said Kynes, sounding slightly affronted.

"Then where is your weapon?"

By way of answer, Kynes started unraveling the belt around her waist. Revan looked at her with an incredulous expression. She kept unravelling the thing like a coiled snake until the full length of it, all twelve feet became visible.

The Jedi realized it wasn't a belt at all. It was a...whip.

Kynes gripped the handle, an elaborate shaft made of silver and ivory. The weapon itself was black as sin, made from a material that let no light escape it's surface. On closer inspection, the Jedi noticed that the thing sported serrated teeth all around the surface, like some spiked tentacle. It definitely looked lethal enough, but a whip...

_Force take me...who the hell uses a whip in this day and age?_

Revan stared at her, a thousand lurid remarks popping into his head where any one of them probably would have forced him to defend himself. Apparently, Kynes knew what he was thinking too.

"Go ahead Jedi, say something clever," she warned ominously.

"You're kidding, right?" Revan managed as Mysteel snickered from the back.

"Trust me Rev. I've seen Kynes scalp more than a fair shake of enemies with that toy of hers. And I'm sure it comes in handy when she's doing her interrogations. Just ask my sister."

Revan shook his head wearily.

"Fine. Mandalore and Octavia are going. Why not you and that...thing?"

"You're sending _those_ two with you?" asked Kynes. It was her turn to sound incredulous. "Mandalore is a psychopath,"

"Said without irony by the woman who uses a _fetish _as a weapon," Revan made sure to stress the word. Kynes flushed but amazingly did not attempt to take the Jedi's head.

"What about Octavia? That droid gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'friendly fire'"

"I couldn't restrain Mandalore from combat short of chaining him to the ship. And do you really want to leave Octavia in control of an army with all this artillery at his disposal?"

Kynes nodded grudgingly, "Point taken,"

The Jedi turned back to their distant quarry. "We'll take three squad, ten members each. Gather your most experienced veterans and tell the other two commanders to do the same,"

The sniper tilted her head in the slightest indication of a bow. "As the Lord Commander wishes," she said. Revan couldn't tell if the honorific was genuine or not.

* * *

_Author's note: I've got another two images posted on my deviantart page. They're both pictures of Mysteel (I like drawing Twi'leks) but one is in color and the other is sort of a retro style feeling). Enjoy._


	37. Chapter 37 The Rescue  Part 1

_Theft isn't a crime...unless you get caught._

_-Thalia Vao_

* * *

The noose was tightening.

Within ten minutes of their victory, Aethon had cordoned off every conceivable exit point from the fortress. The northern towers and its surrounding walls were in complete ruin, shelled to oblivion by Kynes' heavy artillery, while any survivors had been summarily killed by the cold dispassionate touch of Aethon's snipers. The rest of the vermin had scampered back into their underground holes for protection, collapsing the passages behind them. The Reborn believed that in their tunnels they would be safe but Aethon would not give them that sort of reprieve. With Malleus' forces exhausted, it was time for Revan's forces to breach the inner sanctum and purge the threat for good.

* * *

Revan crouched within the tight confines of the Mole as it rumbled across the uneven terrain to their destination. He spared a glance out of his windows as the shadow of Malleus' fortress came into view. Mandalore and Octavia had already advanced to their designated insertion points, leaving squad Aethon to take their positions before the operation commenced in earnest.

He took a moment to look at the men and women that he would personally be leading into battle. The Widowmakers were engaged in their pre battle rituals, calmly checking their weapons, making subtle adjustments to their crosshairs or cleaning out the ammo junctions from their weapons. The men Kynes had chosen were apparently the most experienced in close quarters fighting and their equipment reflected their specialty. Five of them hefted what was known as Meme Shields. According to Kynes, it was apparently a unique Mandalorian piece of wargear capable of creating a virtually impenetrable energy field which would protect the bearer from head to foot. The rest of the Widowmakers carried an assortment of close combat weapons, ranging from flamers, grenades and other implements of death.

Kynes herself had a miniature table laid out in front of her with an assortment of bullet cartridges, weapons and infiltration equipment. The sniper inspected each piece with cold analytical precision before snapping them onto various parts of her body.

Mysteel by contrast looked lightly equipped. Dressed in dull black fatigues, the Twi'lek had her lightsaber strapped to the rightside of her hip and a blaster on the other. A bandoleer was strapped from shoulder to chest, bearing the impressive collection of flaying knives Revan had seen her cleaning earlier. Right now, she was anxiously fingering one of them, pressing the point onto their tip of her finger again and again.

The Jedi frowned. He really didn't think Mysteel should be on this mission. Her private vendetta had become all consuming, changing her jovial personality in ways that the Revan found disturbing. But something in the back of his mind told him that she should be in the thick of things, that she was a key to…something.

_My dreams…it all has something to do with them. But what?_

Unsure of the answer, Revan did one last check of his own equipment and made sure everyone on his team had a working comm channel. When the Jedi was satisfied that everyone was as ready as they were going to be, he addressed his team.

"You all know the mission parameters. Our first objective is the _live_ capture of this Twi'lek of yours." Revan looked at Mysteel when he stressed the word.

"Octavia and Mandalore will be the diversion. They will hunt and draw as much enemy attention from us as possible. While the defenders are busy, we will scour the complex until we find the traitor and get him to reveal the location of the weapon. Resistance is expected but should be minor compared to the other teams. During the purge, you are all authorized to kill anyone that isn't a slave. Questions?"

"Just one," said Kynes, snapping a clip into her marksman's pistol and giving Revan her wintry stare. "We are going into the belly of the beast. The heart of Malleus sanctum. He and the remainder of his brood are literally backed into a corner so we must assume they will deploy every trap, weapon and resource at their disposal to deny us any semblance of victory. What's to say he won't unleash the weapon and doom us all to a slow and agonizing death?"

"I have considered that." admitted Revan. "And I believe Malleus will only use that as a last resort. If there is even a remote chance he can escape, the Reborn will fight to the bitter end. Our goal is to neutralize the threat before it gets to that point. But if we are unable to secure the objective..."

"Yes?" pressed the sniper.

"...I have left standing orders with the ships in orbit to bomb this continent into oblivion the moment our life signs get cut off. One way or another, Malleus' schemes end today."

The sniper didn't look thrilled with that prospect but nodded all the same.

"Let us hope that it doesn't come to that. I rather like being alive."

"We should find my sister first," interrupted Mysteel urgently. "I don't want her in the hands of that bastard any longer than she has to,"

Kynes gave an irritated sigh.

"We've been over this. She is a secondary objective, somebody Malleus or Matarl will likely use as a bargaining chip. We can't fall prey to the same trick a second time." The sniper looked pointedly at Mysteel when she said this, earning a poisonous glare in return.

"Why don't you shut up before I make your _face_ a secondary objective?"

"Enough!" snapped Revan, stopping both women in their tracks before their bickering could turn into a cat fight.

"Matarl is the only definitive source of information right now. With luck, he will know where to find the weapon _as well_ as your sister. But to do that, we need to find him first."

"And what of Malleus? What do you plan to do when we finally cross paths?" interjected Kynes.

"We kill him," said Revan without irony.

"You make it sound so easy." she retorted with a faint sneer. "Have you forgotten the punishment you got for underestimating his second in command? I can assure you, Victus is to Malleus what an insect is to a giant. And even with all three of us against him plus a full squadron of Widowmakers, I do not like our odds."

"Leave him to me," Revan said in a surprisingly calm voice. The sniper looked like she wanted to argue the point but the Jedi beat her to it.

"Mandalore and Octavia will breach the sanctum from their separate entry points. With luck, once they have completed the purge, they can track our signal and all three teams will be able to converge somewhere down the tunnels below."

"If, when and how." said Kynes scornfully, shaking her head. "You are putting too much on faith Jedi. An army commander would never approve of this reckless course of action."

"Are you _in_ the army right now?" Revan asked pointedly. The sniper remained silent.

"This is not an ideal situation I know." The Jedi said after a moment, "If it were up to me, I would have the fortress' floor plans, escape routes and defences all mapped out. But time is against us. Every moment we spend arguing semantics is another second for the enemy to prepare. And yes, I am doing this partly to give Thalia's daughter the best chance of survival. But mostly because I want to deny Malleus as much time as possible to carry put any plans he has for the weapon. So we strike hard and fast, and hope that we arrived in time to foil the Reborn. Understood?"

The sniper stared at Revan for a long time before giving the slightest inclination of her head. "Understood,"

A voice crackled onto their comm channel. "Lord Commander, we are approaching the designated coordinates"

"Good, bring the Mole straight to the insertion point."

Seconds later, the transport came to a rumbling halt. The hatch doors blew open and pairs of black clad soldiers stepped put in synchronous precision. They automatically took up covering positions around the vehicle's perimeter and searched for lines of fire before giving the all clear. Revan emerged from within.

* * *

The insertion point he had chosen was one of the auxiliary barracks that connected to the underground complex proper. The front of the squat rectangular building was dominated by a pair of sturdy metal doors, designed to withstand incredible punishment. To reach their objective, Aethon would need to breach them.

Using curt gestures, Kynes directed her Widowmakers to form a phalanx in front of the entrance. When her squad was in position, the sniper approached the doors. With practiced efficiency, she set up a series of elaborate wires from her portable terminal to the console interface. Then after typing a series of rapid commands into her terminal, the sniper looked up and gave a sign.

_System breached_. _Internal defense systems offline._

The Jedi nodded and took up position, hugging the wall next to the doors, while Mysteel walked up to the opposite side. When everyone was in position, the Jedi switched frequencies on his comm. channel.

"HQ, Squad Aethon is in position. Are the other two teams in place?"

His adjutant answered a moment later.

_++Affirmative Lord Commander, Mandalore and Octavia report that their squads are standing by. They can insert at your command++_

"Good. Tell them to initiate insertion protocol. Do not break channel silence unless absolutely necessary."

++_Understood_++

Revan cut the channel and gave his second-in-command a curt nod.

"Do it,"

The sniper drew her sidearm and nodded before tapping a button on her wrist terminal. The doors sparked and then shuddered open as the hot-wired command terminal forced the locking mechanism offline. Not waiting for the dust to settle, Revan and his team charged in, weapons blazing.

Unsurprisingly, the Jedi and his team were promptly greeted by a tidal wave of blaster fire. Revan and Mysteel instinctively blocked the incoming shots with their blades, while the Widowmakers absorbed the rest with their Meme shields as they advanced inexorably. A quick inspection told Revan that the enemy had taken the time to entrench themselves. Dozens of mercenaries which Kynes had earlier identified as Scourged Souls crouched between makeshift blockades made from broken furniture, tables and bunk beds. Groups of Abominations and Aspirants were scattered amongst the groups to hold the line.

"Kill the Jedi!" snarled one of the monsters in their bastard tongue. Revan issued a command of his own.

"Charge!"

Following his own command, the Jedi ran towards the nearest group of defenders, vaulting over chairs and tables to meet his quarry. An Abomination leapt to block his path midway but Revan deftly stabbed the brute through the skull before his claws found purchase. Using his momentum to roll away from his kill, the Jedi came to stand within only a few feet of his enemies and thrust out his left hand.

The flimsy blockade came apart like kindling, and the Sourged Souls were flung into the air shouting curses before crashing bodily into the unyielding rock. While they lay stunned, the Jedi quickly covered the distance cut the mercenaries down with brutal swipes of his blade. Finishing the last straggler, Revan noticed a golden flicker from the corner of his eye. He turned and realized Mysteel had waded into melee as well.

The Twi'lek's movements were lithe and graceful like a dancer, her feet barely touching the ground as she vaulted between her victims delivering brutally precise cuts to the throat, chest and skull. She ducked under the latest enemy's clumsy attempt to butt her with his rifle before cutting out his legs with a slash of her blade. As the man fell into three parts screaming, she rolled and came stand in front of another Scourged Soul. The mercenary fired a hasty shot but Mysteel leapt impossibly fast, and landing nimbly with one leg on his chest. Using him as a springboard, Mysteel leapt off her stunned quarry and vaulted straight at an unsuspecting Aspirant like a bird of prey. The warrior turned as he sense movement, but the Twi'lek's lightsaber was already embedded deep into the back of his skull. With a brutal motion, she ripped her weapon out of the surprised man's head and whipped it backwards, straight at her first victim who had regained enough composure to raise his weapon. The lightsaber ripped straight through the man's throat, leaving a gaping hole where his larynx used to be. And before the man had even fallen dead, the weapon had flicked back into Mysteel's hand and the killing spree continued.

The chaos caused by Aethon's spearhead had left the enemy reeling. Their sporadic blaster fire against the Widowmakers impenetrable shields was like an annoying drizzle compared to the roaring fury of their guns. Discharges of superheated plasma fire ripped through the flimsy barricades and into the mercenaries' armor, reducing dozens of the enemies into screaming piles of burning offal. Those that didn't die cooked in their armor were brutally cut down by a flick of Revan or Mysteel's lightsaber.

Seeing that their position was unsustainable, the remaining Aspirants snarled for a retreat. Aethon made them made them pay for their cowardice. Mercenaries that left their cover were cut down piecemeal by Kynes as she cracked off shots with effortless precision. Some of the braver (or insane) Abominations were reduced to piles of fetid meat by the Widowmaker's guns as they broke themselves against the phalanx.

After a few more quick shots, the entire hall had been purged. Revan looked around to inspect their handiwork. A few stragglers had escaped through the exit tunnels into the darkness beyond, but at least thirty of Malleus' henchmen lay dead at their feet.

"Casualties?"

After a moment's inspection, Kynes replied. "Minor flesh wounds, nothing fatal,"

Revan nodded and took out his tracker. The tool was slaved to Matarl's homing beacon, giving an approximate location as to where the Twi'lek would be at any given time. Combined with his spatial mapping tool, he could plot an approximate course to the source of the signal. After inspecting the data for a moment, the Jedi issued a command.

"We take the right tunnel and proceed onward for 500 meters."

With that, Revan's team pressed into the darkness, to face whatever threats lay within.

* * *

The passage Aethon took to the lower levels of the complex was one long ominous descent. Its air was old and stale, evidence that it had been breathed then recycled countless periods of times. Pitch darkness wasn't too much of a problem since every Widowmaker had night vision built into their visors and the two women seemed comfortable stalking through the dark corridors. Revan was also accustomed to travelling in near darkness, using his sense of smell and hearing to guide him through the passage. The Jedi would have thought that there would have been resistance at some point, but their passage had been surprisingly uneventful.

However the descent took an unpleasantly smelly turn when the group emerged from the tunnel and into large dimly illuminated chamber. The smell was appalling, a heady aroma of feces mixed with blood and vomit. Foul sludge flowed out from several rusted pipes and into the damp mossy ground. There was no doubt about it. They were in the fortress' sewer.

Revan could tell by the looks on everyone's faces that they would very much prefer not to take this route. Unfortunately it was the most expedient way deeper into the lower complex, according to his tracker. With a resigned shrug, Revan stepped in and immediately regretted it when a faint squelching sound emanated from under his boots. His comrades reluctantly followed suite, stepping into the putrid liquid.

For the next few minutes, Aethon trudged knee deep in the putrid swamp, doing their best to keep silent while resisting the urge to hurl.

"Oh yeah, this is just perfect." Mysteel muttered after about five minutes of nauseating travel. The passage had narrowed significantly and they were forced to walk in pairs.

"I'm never going to get the smell of ass out of my clothes after this"

"Quiet." Snapped Kynes suddenly, cocking her head to the side. "Do you hear that?"

Revan froze and signalled the rest of the squad to do so. The hallway was still eerily quiet to him, but he did feel something...a subtle vibration in the direction they were heading. It sounded like...

"Footsteps. Lots of them." warned the sniper.

"Form up." ordered Revan. The Widowmakers resumed their phalanx formation with rifles held rock solid into the darkness in front of them, their multiple searchlights looked for any telltale signs of movement. As Revan and Mysteel ignited their lightsabers and lowered their stance, the Jedi hear a very faint wailing. The sound became exponentially louder as the anticipated horde approached.

"Abominations?" asked Mysteel warily.

"Doesn't sound like them," said Revan cautiously. "More like..."

"Screamers!" interrupted Kynes sharply.

Just as she shouted the warning, Revan saw a quartet of emancipated figures emerge from darkness of the corridor, then a dozen, then a score...the Jedi quickly lost count. They weren't Abominations thankfully, each man and woman still resembling a distinct species. However, each of their chests had been strapped with something that looked suspiciously like plastique and dynamite. And to his disgust, their eyes had been gouged out, replaced by some sort of spiked visor.

_Slave fodder. _

Screamers were codeword for suicide bombers. The Jedi had read Aethon's engagement history and remembered Lucidae's recount of how the Reborn liked to use their flesh fodder as walking time bombs. When the slaves reached a certain proximity, their helmets would trigger the explosives, reaping a bloody tally. Behind them were the herders, Aspirants and Scourged Souls who forced their wailing victims to run straight at the intrepid squad. They laughed in their guttural tongue as they whipped their charges into a frenzy.

_The Reborn's depravity knows no bounds._

A lesser commander may have balked at the horrid sight and prospect of gunning down unarmed civilians, but Revan was made of sterner stuff. As the closest slaves converged within firing distance of their positions the Jedi pointed his lightsaber at them and issued a curt order.

"Aim for the legs,"

The Widowmakers obeyed, lowering their guns fractionally before firing. The corridor became illuminated in plasma fire, with men and women collapsing to the ground screaming in agony as their legs were taken out from under them. Since none of them were wearing armor, many of the victims were blown to bits, much to the Jedi's regret. The poor slaves would be crippled if they lived to survive this massacre, but at least they would live. As the first ranks fell, the dozens behind them screamed and tried to run away, only to be brutally trampled into the floor by the scores of other slaves taking up the rear.

The suicide ranks were quickly thinning, caught between the controlled volleys of Aethon's guns and their Master's whips. However they were only the tip of the iceberg. Pairs of screaming Abominations leapt over the desecrated bodies, followed by Aspirants. Dozens of the Scourged Souls took cover behind the makeshift flesh shields and opened fire at Aethon's warriors.

The Jedi, Widowmakers and Mysteel weathered the majority of the firestorm with sword and shield but were otherwise unable to counter as the melee fighters came into striking distance. Revan knew in such a confined space, the Widowmaker' ability to fight was severely hampered as they had to worry about hitting the Jedi as much as the enemy. He was about to issue an order to order a strategic withdrawal and find open ground until Kynes stepped in front of him. In the sniper's hand was her whip, her eyes glinting with a fire that the Jedi had never seen before.

As the enemy converged on them hurling curses, Kyne's weapon crackled and hissed into life, torrents of energy arcs streaking across its lethal surface. In a brutal windmill motion, the sniper brought the whip streaking into the mass of diseased flesh in front of her. Her first strike cleaved through the waist of an Abomination, separating the monster into two bloody chunks. Snapping off the walls with a crackling discharge, the whip came back and parted another unfortunate warrior's head from it's neck, as effortlessly as a scythe cutting through suet. The deadly woman continued slashing back and forth with the whip, tearing huge gouges of flesh off the closest enemies that foolishly tried to enter melee.

One of the Aspirants snarled and tried to sever the whip with its lightsaber, but the thing recoiled like snake, almost as if it had a mind of its own. With quick snap of her wrist, the weapon darted out and punished the aggressor by taking out one of its eyes. As the warrior howled in pain, Kynes slashed its throat open with lethal precision. Then with two quick explosive motions, the sniper took off his and left arm, leaving the Aspirant to gurgle and drown in its own poisoned blood.

Another Abomination bounded off the floor and against the wall before hurling itself at the woman. The fiend movements were blinding but even its speed was nothing compared to the whip. Faster than the blink of an eye, her scourge had curled around the Abomination's neck in mid flight. A brutal jerk of her wrist was all it took to send the thing crashing into the ground. As the monster jerked spasmodically, Kynes blew its brains out with a single shot from her pistol.

Revan was so busy marvelling at the lethal display that he almost forgot to attack himself. With the enemy ranks suddenly depleted, the Jedi leapt towards the Scourged Souls. His first victim tried to block the blow with his sidearm but the lightsaber sundered the feeble shield like a toy before plunging deep into his chest. The Jedi unceremoniously ripped his blade out of the gaping wound before beheading the next two in quick succession as they tried to fire in point blank range. Even as Revan rained death on the stragglers, Mysteel was right at his heels, stabbing her blade into any target fortunate enough to evade his wrath.

It was over in moments, the remaining enemies cut down with lethal efficiency. One last mercenary tried to scramble away but Mysteel was having no one of that. The Twi'lek sprung as a snake and kicked the fleeing man on the back, forcing him face first into the sludge stained floor. As the Scourged Soul spat out gobbets of shit, Mysteel ripped off his helmet and grabbed him by his lanky hair.

"Where is my sister you bastard?" snarled the Twi'lek, shaking the wretched thing like a broken toy that wouldn't start. "What did Matarl do to her?"

The Scourged Soul hawked a gob of bloody phlegm and spat it into his captor's face.

"Go to hell bitch."

Mysteel's eyes narrowed in fury and she punched the man in the throat. Revan flinched at the cracking noise. It sounded like she had crushed his windpipe.

"You want to put your balls on the line for these bastards?" she snarled as the man was reduced to gagging fits. "Fine! Let's see how long you last when I start stripping the skin from your flesh."

The Twi'lek drew one of her flaying knives and pressed it against her prisoner's cheek, hard enough to draw blood.

"Do you know how painful skin flaying is?" Mysteel hissed into his ear. "I've seen ball breakers like you who shit themselves after a few good flicks. They would beg to have their own limbs cut off rather than to endure the pain,"

To highlight her point, the Twi'lek deftly flicked a patch of skin off the man's pinky finger. The pirate immediately starting screaming like his hand was on fire.

"_Arghhhh! Stop it! Make it stop!"_

"You want it to stop? Tell me where she is!" the female demanded.

_"I don't know!" _sobbed her victim, _"Please, I swear I don't know anything!"_

_"You lying prick!" _Mysteel shrieked, raising her knife again. "I'm going to-!"

Revan grabbed her hand before Mysteel could do any more damage.

"_Enough_. This isn't going to work,"

Mysteel hissed and tried to wrench away but the Jedi's grip was unrelenting.

"Let me go! He's lying! I know he's-,"

The Jedi wrenched her arm and forced the Twi'lek to look at the pile of sobbing flesh she had reduced her prisoner to.

"Look at him. Do you really think a lowborn scum like him are privy to Malleus' plans?" Revan demanded.

"Pirates are not known for their loyalty. And you've pretty much scared the piss out of this one. If he knew anything of note, he would have told you by now."

The fury in Mysteel's eyes dimmed somewhat and she stopped struggling. Satisfied that she wouldn't try anything psychotic, Revan let go of the Twi'lek's wrist. With a disgusted sigh, she turned and stalked away. When she was gone, Revan beckoned the team's medic closer.

"Close the wound then tie him up,"

"And the slaves Lord Commander? They will not survive long without medical treatment. Especially in this filth."

"We'll move them to higher ground. Then do the best you can. But time is of the essence. Sedate them if you have to."

The soldier saluted and they spent a few minutes helping the wounded to a relatively clean patch of dirt. Afterwards, Revan approached Mysteel, who had been pacing angrily up and down the tunnel during the entire process.

"Dammit Revan. We're going too slow!" she hissed when he approached. "We should have bled that bastard for more-"

The Jedi grabbed Mysteel's chin and forced her to look straight into his eyes. Many people had had withered under his baleful stare and this was no different. A measure of fear crept onto the Twi'leks face and she stopped ranting.

"Listen to yourself," said Revan scornfully. "Do you know what you sound like right now? Why don't you start painting your skin with the blood of your enemies and call it a day?"

Mysteel flinched at the accusation as surely as any slap to the face. She looked away shamefully. "Y-you're right. I'm sorry."

"I know you're worried about your sister." Revan said in a milder voice. "But lashing out at every enemy we find isn't going to solve anything. We need to approach our objective with caution and guile,"

"I know, I know." She muttered. "It's just that...with the noise we've been making, that bastard could have slipped away with her by now!"

"He won't," said Revan firmly. "This entire fortress is blockaded. The entire _planet_ is blockaded. Nobody is getting off here without us noticing,"

"But what if he _does _somehow?" she insisted.

"Then we follow him. We have Arctet's tracking signal," Revan said, tapping the side of his belt.

The Twi'lek looked at the device for a moment, then back at Revan before giving a weary nod. "Right...right, I was being an idiot,"

Satisfied, the Jedi glanced back at Kynes who was tending to the moaning slaves. Most of them looked unconscious if not exactly comfortable. He made a quiet sign for her to gather the rest of the team. She nodded and the Widowmakers started trudging in their direction. Revan turned back to Mysteel and said.

"Let's go,"

The Twi'lek nodded grimly and fell back in formation.

* * *

Thankfully, they encountered no more enemies within the sewers and Revan focused on finding the most expedient path to their quarry. That proved more difficult than anticipated as they emerged from the sewers and into the fortress complex proper. While the fetid smell of excrement had diminished, the new environment took on a much more sinister aspect. One did not have to be a Jedi to sense the echo of the countless souls who had died in agony within the bowels of this fortress.

Foetid banners of skin hung from the walls like obscene trophies. Bones crunched underneath their armored boots, almost like a blanket. And the bricks...Revan did not doubt that the bricks were stained red from the blood of their victims whilst the mortar was crushed from their bones. Much of the complex had also fallen to ruin, overrun with black moss, dead roots and fallen masonry. More often than not, they would come across a crumbled passage or a dead end, forcing the group to turn back and choose an alternate route deeper into the complex.

About ten minutes after their arrival, the communications channel inexplicably went dead, leaving Squad Aethon without any new intel on Mandalore's and Octavia's forces. Some of the troopers surmised they were too far underground to get a decent signal but Kynes suspected that Malleus had found some way to jam their communications. To add another headache, the tracking signal started jumping erratically. Either the beacon's polling was becoming less frequent or Matarl was on the move. Revan's money was on the latter. The traitor knew he was cornered now, and like a rat he was trying to scurry into some darker hole to hide in. Either way, it forced the Jedi to continuously change his projected route for the squad. From time to time, Kynes or another squad member caught flickering shadows from the corner of their eyes or a scuffling of rock, suggesting a malevolent presence that was stalking them. But every time they turned around and flashed their lights, they saw nothing.

_This place is cursed, _thought Revan ruefully. He noticed that Aethon was on edge now, not just Mysteel. They clutched their weapons more tightly, reacted more aggressively to every suggestion of movement. The Jedi knew they had to find their quarry soon, otherwise squad Aethon's nerves would fray.

Thankfully, after a many more minutes of frustrated backtracking, Revan managed to find a relatively clear tunnel passage which eventually expanded into to a very large blood stained chamber. The room was dominated entirely by circular pits roughly ten meters in diameter, with dark iron bars surrounding their circumference. Scattered around the chamber were huge wooden crates, presumably with supplies to feed whatever had been in them. The smell coming from the pits themselves was a pungent combination of blood, shit and spoiled meat. Revan could see the remains of different skeletons scattered amongst the dirt, many of them vaguely humanoid. Most of the prisons had been left open, like they had been evacuated hastily.

"The flesh pits," the Jedi mused. "This must be where Malleus kept his Abominations."

"There must have been hundreds in here." murmured Mysteel as she looked around. "Thousands even,"

"Not anymore," said Kynes dismissively. "We culled the majority of the Abominations in the battlefield."

"Interesting, but not relevant at the moment," said Revan giving the room a cursory inspection. He noticed there was also second level of balconies, presumably for spectators who could watch bloodsport below. And while each wall had an exit, Revan had come to assume that anyone of them could lead to a dead end.

"We'll take the first passage and see if it l-"

The first sign that something was amiss was when Reban heard a loud _bang _followed by the Widowmaker next to him pitching back and crumpling to the floor. A bloody crater had replaced the place where his helmet used to be.

"Enemies on the balconies!" one of his allies shouted. His warning was followed by several loud clicking sounds as enemies rose out of from behind the balconies and started firing with impunity.

"Scatter!" shouted Revan, dodging another shot that narrowly missed his shoulder. The Widowmakers obeyed without question, diving for cover behind pillars, crates and other miscellaneous blockages. It was a good thing they did too, because a renewed torrent of flurry of crimson spears roared from above, perforating the entire room in crimson red. Bits of wood, glass, and concrete went flying in all directions as the enemy's weapons laid waste to the flesh pits.

Revan crouched next to a fallen statue, deflecting the stray bolt that came his way. Looking around, Revan and was relieved to realize that aside the first casualty, the rest of the team had managed to avoid a grisly death. Widowmakers with shields protected their brethren as the fury of shots washed over them, while the rest took pot shots whenever they could. Kynes was leaning behind a pillar, coming out from cover from time to time to execute the odd pirate with her typical calm detachment. The Jedi was also vaguely aware that Mysteel was pressing tightly behind his back, way past his personal space, but was too distracted by the firefight to care.

One of the enemies lobbed a grenade into the center of the room. In most cases this would have been lethal to the defenders but Mysteel simply flicked her hand and the payload flew back up to the balconies with a scream followed by a sharp _crump_. Bits of bone and meat flew off in all directions, adding additional décor to the room. When Revan turned back with a bemused look, Mysteel shrugged and said.

"What did he think was going to happen?"

Despite these small victories, they were effectively pinned down. The Jedi knew that they would have to do something soon before the entire squad was decimated.

This proved true when one of the Widomakers risked raising his head to let off a shot. It promptly dissolved into red mist as a high powered beam ripped through his helmet, killing him instantly. Revan grimaced at the gruesome scene even as flecks of the man's body splattered over his robes. It was the same type of kill the first victim. Such a powerful shot could only have come from a sniper. The Jedi wanted to scan the room for the telltale sign of a long barrel but knew that was an invitation for the sniper to take off his face.

However inspiration struck when he caught sight of a discarded mirror lying scattered among the debris. The Jedi raised a finger, angling the object to and fro so it reflected off the various balconies. Revan continued rotating it until he caught sight of the black muzzled sniper rifle that had been hounding them. The Jedi smiled, he as discovered the sniper's exact coordinates. Te Widowmakers couldn't shoot the sniper directly without breaking cover but there was one amongst them who didn't need to. Catching Kynes eye, the Jedi signed a quick signal in Army code.

_Sniper directly north of my position. Forty five degree elevation. One hundred meters. _

Kynes nodded sharply at the instructions and raised her marksman's pistol. Without leaving her pillar, the sniper took a rapid scan left and right before aiming at a support west of the Jedi's position. Weighing the trajectory based on Revan's instructions, she fired. The bullet ricocheted off the side with a _clink_. A split second later there was a cry of pain as someone toppled over the balcony. The Jedi risked another looked and smiled with grim satisfaction as the sniper lay crumpled on the floor with a bullet embedded in his neck.

Revan nodded his thanks to the sniper who had already turned away to look for more targets. With the most major threat neutralized, the remaining Widowmakers emerged from cover and began returning sporadic shots at the remaining enemy who were still raining blaster fire from the balconies with impunity. Aethon was holding their own at the moment, but the Jedi didn't doubt for a moment that the other shoe was about to drop.

_We've stayed here too long. Now we'll be fodder for the secondary counterattack. _

Just as he suspected, the onslaught proved to be a precursor to an even greater threat. Within seconds of the sniper's death, Revan heard a familiar keening. Moments later, hordes of ghoulish figures exploded from the doors of the western passage with claws outstretched, braying curses. With the incessant bolts of blaster fire still raining down upon their heads, none of squad Aethon could react to the new threat.

"Melee weapons!" Revan shouted, surging up from one knee. Mysteel turned with him, deflecting a flurry of bolts as they came out of their hiding spot. They barely had time to orient themselves as three Abominations attacked almost in unison. The first fiend swiped at Revan's head. The Jedi crouched under the strike and heaved the attacker over his shoulder just in time to cleave the second monster across the throat. He shoved the kill out of the way and was about to parry another outstretched claw until a muzzle blast caught him the shoulder. The Jedi staggered and was almost beset by a pair of slashing talons, but Mysteel managed to cut off the Abomination's arms before his face was turned into ribbons.

Mysteel turned a round briefly to see if Revan was okay. That proved to be her undoing as two more monsters clamped onto her body like parasites and she was dragged down with a yelp.

Revan turned tried to help his beleaguered ally but he noticed in dismay that the wave had reached the rest of his men. Widowmakers were forced to fend off the monsters with the butts of their weapons and Revan knew it was only a matter of time before they were all overrun. But he couldn't worry about that now. All he could think about was trying to stay alive for the next few seconds.

The Jedi bisected another Abomination through the torso and spun to cut a slavering maw in half. But even as he raised his blade to fend off a new pair of slashing claws, the Jedi felt the wind blasted from his chest as a black clad monster slammed into his shoulder. Revan staggered and tried to push the monster away but another Abomination abruptly took his place...then another and another. Within seconds, the Jedi his allies were swarmed on all sides. All semblance of order was lost amidst the press of putrid flesh and gnashing teeth as Revan was forced to the ground. The Jedi found himself suffocated by the mass of groping claws and gnashing teeth.

Somewhere along the way, Revan lost his lightsaber and gained a sharp piece of glass, which he promptly stabbed into the eye of the Abomination trying to bite off his face. Even as the monster reeled away in pain, a fresh pair of teeth clamped onto his shoulder sending flares of pain shooting up his entire body. Revan snarled in pain and tried to break free but the pressure was top great. His whole body felt like it was on fire and it was only a matter of time before he was fully engulfed. Revan felt his world turning crimson as taloned claws ripped through his robes and gouged deep red worms on his chest.

_This is it... _Revan thought. _This is the final hour. Perhaps in death, my dishonor will be absolved. _

But even as he was preparing to utter the final battle rites for his own demise, the pressure on his chest suddenly lifted...

Revan became aware of a new sound amongst the screaming. It almost sounded like...laughter. The Jedi dared to open is eyes. In front of him was a red armoured giant, lathered from head to toe in ichorous gore as his blade cut through the mass of monster flesh on top of him. He wasn't alone. Several other towering figures had crashed into the mass of flesh and were pushing Abominations away from the beleaguered Widomakers. One of them was taller by half a foot and each sweep of his blade brought devastation to the fiends. It took a moment for Revan's throbbing head to realize what was happening.

_Mandalore...he found us._

Revan never thought he would be glad to see the tinheads, especially after what happened on Solace, but here they were, saving his wretched hide. Clawing about, the Jedi found his weapon and belatedly realized he could see the telltale bulk of Octavia's armoured chassis along with his droids entering from the North end of the room. Their weapons showered the mercenaries on the balconies in incandescent death, killing half a dozen outright while forcing the majority to keep their heads down.

The Mandalorians, one of the most feared fighting forces in the galaxy brought death to the Abominations with blaster and blade, roaring in fury as they hacked the their limbs off. Claw and tooth skidded off harmlessly from their armoured hides while their lethal blades pierced through flesh and bone as easily as a skewer through meat.

Their leader was destruction incarnate. Mandalore didn't so much fight the Abominations as he did ground them into a chunky paste. As the Jedi got back unsteadily to his feet, he saw the huge man charge into a pack of Abominations with the force of a bull. Despite being outnumbered ten to one, his sheer bulk split the wedge apart and scattered the monsters like paper in the wind. While they lay stunned, the mighty Mandalorian swung his butcher's blade with impunity, cleaving Abominations into pieces with each savage stroke.

One of the fiends regained its wits and managed to sneak up behind Mandalore and stab deep into the warrior's back, tearing huge gouges into the burnished metal. Roaring with hatred, the huge man spun and grabbed the monster from his back before slamming him into floor again and again. Once the thing had stopped squirming, Mandalore pincered its head with his huge metal claw and clenched. The pressure immediately causing the head split apart like a piece of ripe fruit, the gore exploding in all directions. Revan found himself soaked in the stuff, which seemed to amuse the giant man to no end.

"Do you smell that boy?" thundered Mandalore through the din of combat. "Smells like victory, doesn't it?"

"Only to you Mandalore," replied Revan as he waded back into the fight, severing an Abomination's grasping claws that tried to gouge his eyes out. Between the Jedi and Mandalorian's blades, the fiends were being culled in droves. Revan had to admire the brutal efficiency in which the Mandalorians dispatched their enemies, each economical blow designed to kill the enemy as quickly as possible before they moved on to the next one.

Octavia by contrast seemed to be taking an almost sexual joy in its killing. The huge droid waded into the carnage, all seven foot of metal and malice. Pirates snapped off shots to dissuade its advance but the machine ignored the torrent of blaster fire which barely scratched its metal finish and brought its massive right arm to bear. Gouts of flame spewed forth from the nozzle built into its palm, immolating all the enemies on the nearest balconies in its lethal embrace. Pirates and slaves screamed in the same high pitched wail as their skin sloughed off their flesh and they collapsed as burning husks to the floor.

The droid wasn't done. His left arm came up and pointed to the other side of the room, bearing a massive six barreled auto cannon. Revan heard the distinctive clink of shell casings being loaded into their chambers until an even more terrifying sound replaced it...

_Awhooooooooooooo_

The chamber turned white, lighting up with an endless torrent of bullet shells as Octavia unleashed his fury. Entire sections of the cages and pillars were torn apart as Octavia levelled his fury across the balconies and the remainder of the enemies. They ripped through every obstruction effortlessly, reducing Abominations and Scourged Souls alike to red and black mist as the oversized ammunition punched through their fleshy bodies.

The cacophony was deafening, and most of the Mandalorians clutched their helmets, so great was the ringing pain. Even Revan thought the noise would split his head open until he heard the loud clicking noise of Octavia's ammo belt running dry. One by one, the Widowmakers and Mandalorians dared to raise their heads. The entire room was ruined, with nothing but chuks of black and red slurry to mark the deaths of their enemies. The smell of cooked meat wafted into the Jedi's nose, mixed with the sharp tang of promethium and ash.

_Friendly fire indeed._

Miraculously, the droid didn't seem to have hit any of his allies. A quick count told him four of the Widowmakers remained standing, a far higher number than the Jedi hoped after the pummeling they took. Kynes had also made it through, and drenched in as much black gore as him, much to her apparent distaste. As the Jedi wiped some of the grime from his face, the commanders from the Eight and Tenth stalked menacingly to his position.

"I'm glad you two decided to help us when you did," Revan nodded to them.

"If it wasn't for the noise, we wouldn't have bothered to rescued you at all," growled Mandalore. "The _fodder _was growing scarce in the fortress_." _ He pointed to the pulpy mass of Abominations. "We wandered these corridors looking for the vermin until the sound of gunfire attracted our attention. We followed the din, hoping to find fresh kills for our blades. Helping you was purely coincidence."

"Nevertheless, your assistance is greatly appreciated,"

Mandalore grunted something unintelligible and turned away.

"Your primary objective was to locate the traitor. Have you achieved that yet?" interrupted Octavia.

"Not yet. But we were close."

The Jedi reached for his tracker again but realized it was no longer on his belt. As he looked around the floor for it, Revan realized something else.

"Where is Mysteel?"

Kynes and the soldiers looked around but didn't answer,

"Damnation," muttered Revan. He opened up a general channel. "All squad members, give me visual confirmation of Mysteel."

After a moment's silence, one of them said.

"Negative Lord Commander, I don't see her life signs on the radar either. Either she's dead or she turned off her beacon."

Based on the fact that she was nowhere to be seen, Revan was hedging his bets on the latter. It didn't take for him long to understand what this meant. Mysteel had stolen off with his tracker so she could get to Matarl first. And when that happened...well Revan had seen first hand how unhinged the Twi'lek was at this point. If Matarl was lucky, she would give him a swift death assuming he told her where her sister was. The alternative involved flaying knives and a lot of skin.

"Orders?" asked Kynes

Revan stared at the three passages leaving the room, and considered his options. Their top priority was still the acquisition of the weapon but without Arctet's beacon, they would be flying blind. Aethon would need to find the weapon themselves. But he also remembered his pledge to the Master of Aethon. Revan knew he was honor bound to keep Lucidae's student safe. Still, he couldn't divert squads from their primary goal just to steer Mysteel from her personal vendetta. He would have to look for her himself. But the problem now was that she could have taken any one of these corridors.

"We'll need to split up," said Revan reluctantly.

"Is that wise?" Kynes asked dubiously. "The defences will only get worse and Malleus is still unaccounted for."

"It isn't," admitted Revan. "But it is necessary. Mysteel has taken it upon herself to wreak vengeance on her tormentor and nothing good can come from that. I need to stop Mysteel before she does something we all regret. I owe Lucidae that much at least,"

Kynes stared at him with an inscrutable expression but eventually nodded in agreement.

"Very well, what do you want me to do?"

"Take all three teams through the eastern pass. That is as good a location to start looking as any. I will take the passage that leads to Matarl's last known location."

"How many men do you want?"

"All of them. But I will cover more ground alone and have a better chance to remain undetected."

The sniper shook her head in disbelief.

"Always taking insurmountable odds. You enjoy defying death, don't you Revan?"

"Not in the slightest. Like I said, it's necessary."

That wasn't strictly true and Revan admitted to himself that the decision stemmed from largely personal reasons. Lucidae had warned Revan about the follies of a Jedi working alone, but some things had to be done from prying eyes.

_I don't want others to learn the truth_.

Seeing that she wouldn't be able to dissuade him, Kynes motioned for the three teams to press forward into the tunnel, Revan had specified.

"Keep your channel open then and alert us at the first sign of trouble" said Kynes, turning to follow them. Almost as an afterthought she turned and said.

"Good luck Revan. Force be with you,"

"And with you," said Revan nodding in thanks. With that, the sniper turned and melted into the gloom beyond.

* * *

Matarl had been running blindly for what seemed like an eternity.

The distinct discharge of blaster fire and lightsabers clashing rang discordantly against the Twi'lek's lobes with the noises had been getting louder each minute. And with each shot and scream as another henchmen fell dead, Matarl felt a mounting dread creep around his shrivelled heart like tendrils waiting to pull a hapless victim underwater.

He had seen the battle back through the cameras in the observation lab. The swiftness and brutality that Lucidae had demonstrated in wiping out Malleus forces was nothing short of terrifying. He fancied he had heard Malleus himself scream in helpless fury as his numerically superior army had been destroyed piecemeal. At that was when he had started running again, hoping to find some way of escape from this wretched prison.

They were coming for him, the Twi'lek had no doubt about that. Aethon had already breached Malleus' sanctum and when they found him, they were going to drag his rotten body back into that wretched planet and mount his head on a pike. Matarl was under no illusion that Lucidae or Mysteel would spare him a second time.

_And all this for one stupid whore and her baseborn child. _

Matarl would have wept if he could still remember how.

His one chance was to flee while Aethon was still occupied with the remnants of Malleus skeleton forces. Hide in the tunnels and hope they overlook him. He didn't even think twice about taking the child with him anymore. Her screaming would just give him away and Matarl didn't have Malleus to protect him anymore.

Matarl ran but with no real course in mind. The complex was one long labyrinth of tunnels and crumbled corridors, making Aethon's catacombs seem straightforward by comparison. Eventually, his blind running brought him to a huge set of wooden doors. Without thinking, the Twi'lek pushed them open and found himself in a tall gloomy chamber. The room was cluttered with half filled bookcases and scattered papers.

_A library._

When he went in, Matarl felt an almost unnatural silence permeat from the room in stark contrast to the raging inferno from the rest of the fortress. The Twi'lek exhaled. While not the best hiding spot, Matarl figured it was easier to get lost among rows of bookcases than in some dark corridor. As he walked amongst the piles of texts and crumbling parchment, the Twi'lek had a chance to reflect on how his life had gotten so out of control. Malleus...everything had gone wrong ever since he met that...that thing. The rumors had been right after all. He was truly the Corrupter of Souls, leaving death and ruin in his wake...including his allies.

_Damn slug. I hope Reeka chokes on a Bantha. He should never have tried to deal with this bastard._

Perhaps it was paranoia or maybe his heightened senses, but the Twi'lek suddenly sensed movement from his back as he was musing. Turning around, Matarl was horrified to see that the bookcase behind him was creaking and tumbling forward.

Instinctively, he lunged to the side, narrowly missing the plummeting bookcase which came crashing down his former position in a crack of splintered wood. Coughing and cursing his ill fortune, Matarl whipped his head to see the source of the disturbance. What he saw was the thing he had dreaded most ever since the first ship had been sighted in orbit.

Mysteel stood behind the clearing dust, her face incandescent with rage.

"Matarl!" She shouted in a voice mingled with barely suppressed fury and hysteria. "Where is my sister?"

In this situation, Matarl did the most sensible thing possible. He ran.

Unsurprisingly, he heard Mysteel following, her footsteps echoing loudly across the gloomy room.

"Get back here you bastard!" she shrieked.

Matarl didn't look back. He knocked over chairs, tables and other bookshelves in the hopes of hampering the angry female's progress. Mysteel gave chase, shoving the nuisances away like they were toys.

Matarl sweated and worked his mouth in wordless prayer as he ran. The female might have been consumed with anger but she was also a hunter, her technique perfected by countless hours of training.

It was only a matter of time before he stumbled, and when that happened…

* * *

Revan jerked his head sharply to the side at the sound of the crash. His search through the corridors had proven uneventful until the sound of violence piqued his senses.

_That sounded like Mysteel._

Wasting no time, the Jedi turned and ran down the passage where the noise emanated each step, the sound of the female voice became clearer, shouting threats and promises of vengeance. It was definitely Mysteel. Reassured he had found his quarry, the Jedi ran down the passage with renewed purpose. But when he came to a fork in the tunnels, Revan stopped and found himself hesitating.

The Jedi spent a long time looking at either path. The source of the din clearly came from the left...but something in the back of his mind told him to go right. He couldn't quite place the sensation, but it almost felt like something was waiting for him there.

_I should find Mysteel first._

Yet against his better judgement, the Jedi found himself turning right. Walking down that long dark chamber almost felt like walking through a dream. Half hidden whispers scrapped the back of his mind, like a pitch that was just beyond the human capacity to hear. It was a sensation that felt eerily familiar.

_The last time I felt like this...was with Victus._

The walk felt like an eternity...or maybe it was no time at all but Revan found himself stopping at a high set of arched doorways. With a deep breath Revan push inward and entered a cold drafty room. The walls were decorated with long elaborate tapestries which on closer inspection was actually skin...multiple faces sewed together to form an unbroken banner of anguish. Looking away in disgust, the Jedi focused on the singular longtable occupying the centre of the chamber with rows of chairs to either side.

And at the far end was a shadow, the faint suggestion of a wraith like figure. A quiet voice told him to walk forward and the Jedi found himself obeying. But as Revan stepped forth and towards the seated shadow, his head started to hurt again, a very reliable sign that he was in danger. And when he got close enough to see the man sitting at the end of the table, Revan could see why.

"Hello brother," said Malleus.

* * *

_Author's note: New artwork on my deviantart page. This time, it's Ailene from the Gathering Storm. Enjoy._


	38. Chapter 38 The Rescue Part 2

_Destiny makes fools of us all_

_-Vandar_

* * *

For the longest moment, Revan and Malleus simply stared at each other. _This was it _Revan thought, _this_ was the source of all the carnage that had plagued him since his arrival on Darith, the man whose fate had intertwined with his. Despite his calm demeanor, the Jedi felt a tinge of unease standing in the presence of the_ Corrupter of Souls _or _the Butcher _as he was better known to the rank and file of Aethon. To look upon Malleus was to look at a living piece of history itself. Decrepit, malformed and irredeemably corrupt the _Renatus_ might be, but Revan couldn't deny the man had an indomitable presence, an aura of ancient wisdom that clung to him like rings on a tree stump. He was a tangible link to Jedi history after all. A very bleak period of history true, but history nonetheless.

"So.. you are the one that has been thwarting my plans since Darith," Said the withered man breaking the silence.

"And you are Ajunta Pall's experimental abortion." said Revan, forcing his voice to remain steady.

If Malleus gave any hint that he was insulted, the ancient being kept it well hidden. "I never saw you in my dreams." He said offhandedly. Instead of anger, the Renatus carried a tone of something that could be considered wonderment, like he couldn't quite believe what he was looking at.

"Then again... why would I? Dead things don't exist in dreams."

_Wonderful...not only does he look like rotten cheese, but he's mad as well._

Before Revan could think of a suitable response, Malleus poured a foul looking liquid into one of his dining cups.

"But where are my manners? As your host, I must congratulate you." Malleus pushed the cup near Revan's side of the table while raising his own.

"To your victory. I have seldom seen such grand mastery over a battlefield. Consider myself humbled and privileged to have witnessed such tactical expertise."

When Revan just stared at the cup, Malleus shrugged and downed his glass instead.

"So...," The Renatus said slowly, sloshing the liquid and letting copious drops leak out from the side of his ruined face. "Here you stand before me, after a most turbulent few days of constantly ruining my plans. And now in the heart of my own sanctum no less. Tell me brother, do you think it is destiny that brought you here?"

The Jedi snorted disdainfully. "There's no such thing, just cause and effect. But if you want to call it that, I'd say destiny hasn't been very kind to you for the past hour. "

"Destiny is a fickle mistress," "Malleus conceded "It can caress you as tenderly as a lover one moment, then fuck you up the ass the next. Yet in the end, we are all subservient to its will...But I am getting ahead of myself."

The _Renatus_ took a wriggling worm like creature from his plate and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly like a delicacy. Between swallows he asked.

"Judging by the symbol that you so proudly sport on your cloak, I assume you have thrown in your lot with Lucidae, my most hated foe. But to what end?"

"Yours," said Revan evenly, touching the hilt of his lightsaber.

"Hrnngh, I assumed that yes." said Malleus calmly, reaching for another worm. "Well if that is what the fates will today, than so be it."

Revan was somewhat taken aback. Despite the grievous losses he had inflicted on this fiend, Malleus didn't seem remotely bothered by them. The Jedi expected the _Renatus_ to rave or hurl threats at him, promising a grisly death...that sort of thing. But the monster was surprisingly calm and well spoken, especially compared to his compatriots, albeit much more horrid in appearance.

"You don't seem overly upset by your imminent death," the Jedi remarked.

"Why would I? I am secure in the future that will come to pass. As impressive as your display of strength has been, nothing can alter the course of reality, the inevitable decline of your precious Republic. The Jedi Order will collapse with it and the galaxy will burn in the fires of war before emerging anew, moulded in our image. And no ghosts of the past will be able to thwart that eventuality. Not even you corpse thing."

_Corpse thing..._

Revan felt a shudder up his spine. In all his brief conversations with Victus and his brood, they had all used that macabre honorific to address him.

"Why do you call me that?" he demanded.

"Because you are a dead," affirmed Malleus "You just don't know it yet."

The Renatus propped a hand under his chin, locking the Jedi with his harrowing milky stare. "Yes... I see it now. When I first saw you in those tunnels, I could scarce believe it. Perhaps that is why I didn't kill you...and yet I see with perfect clarity at this moment the resemblance..."

"You're not making any sense." remarked Revan dryly, to which the Renatus merely shrugged.

"Before he passed away completely, Victus mentioned to me that he had encountered something very unusual, a ghost of the past you might say. My subordinate said this man was one among many, shackled in mortal flesh and stripped of their very identity, a pale shade of his former glory. When I first learned of your existence, I was impressed that such a procedure had been done successfully. But then again, the Jedi council has a habit of creating assets, draining them of all usefulness before casting them from their domain like so much excrement. So I guess we share that much in common."

"I am nothing like you Malleus," he snapped a little too quickly. No matter how many times people said it, the thought of being compared to such a vile being raised his ire.

"We are." affirmed Malleus "Both of us are both the product of very unnatural science. And my kindred were supplanted because of the council's selfish desires, while you...well can you tell me that their motives were pure?"

When Revan didn't reply, his host nodded to himself as if the answer was obvious.

"I thought not. It is only natural then that Lucidae would swoop down when you were at your most dejected state and wrap you around his little finger, just as surely as he did with the rest of his little band of misfits."

Malleus chuckled "Then again, he always had a knack for inspiring the dregs of society and making them his little puppets"

Revan bristled at the Reborn's insult. "Our goals are the same, but I am not beholden to him,"

The _Renatus_ didn't have eyebrows, but the Jedi could still make out his bemused expression as he arched one side of his face. "You are here on his behalf are you not? You tried to thwart my plans on Darith. Then you lead his armies here and crushed my forces without nary a thought of parley, most likely under his orders. No Jedi, deny it all you want but you are a puppet that dances to his tune just as surely as everyone else that has crossed his path."

"This puppet is about end your madness once and for all,"

Malleus sighed.

"You actually believe that you are right don't you? That your goals are righteous and that we are the tyrants. But answer me this. Has Lucidae ever told you why he is so desperate to kill me? To see me and all the legacy of Ajunta Pall wiped from existence once and for all?"

"What is there to tell?" retorted Revan coldly "Your crimes speak for themselves. I saw firsthand what you were capable of on Darith. Or are you refuting the fact that those monsters who butchered those people on Darith were under your control? What about Thalia's death and the fate of her daughters? Do you deny these atrocities?"

"Not atrocities." said Malleus levelly. "Fate. Everything I have done is to secure the future I have foreseen. But yes, I admit I did _want_ to hurt Lucidae. That man's punishment was just...and a long time coming."

"You are a madman Malleus." Revan spat in disgust. "A corrupt, twisted monster from a forgotten age in Jedi history that should never see the light of day again. The sooner your kind are extinguished completely, the better."

"You see what you want to see." replied Malleus dismissively. "But I'd wager you would change your tune if you knew the history between me and your puppet master. You know not of the pain Ajunta Pall's followers suffered. Of the crimes the Order inflicted upon the galaxy so many years ago, during the great sundering. And how they repeat their crimes today."

"You were cast out for following a madman that incited rebellion within the Order." Revan retorted "A narcissist who sought to supplant the Republic and turn the Jedi into his vile creations."

Malleus laughed at the Jedi's vitrol

"Ah yes, that old chestnut again. Let me guess. Lucidae told you that didn't he? I can almost hear his voice through your words. The lengths that the lackeys of the Order would go to promote their lies never ceases to amaze me."

The thing let out a whispery sigh that seemed to rattle through his ancient lungs.

"Then again history is written by the victors. And with every passing generation, those fiends that sit upon their lofty thrones promote and recycle the same vile slander on those they have oppressed." The Renatus' right fist clenched, shattering his goblet into ruin.

"Such a corrupt institution can and _will_ no longer be allowed to exist."

"The conceit of your words astounds me" said Revan shaking his head. "Only someone as twisted as you would consider yourselves the victims of the civil war. If anyone is to blame, it is your wretched leader who used others for his selfish quest of immortality."

Malleus smiled thinly.

"Ajunta Pall experimented on his followers that is true. But with the Council's blessings and only those that volunteered. But would it surprise you to learn that when his research showed promise, the Order ordered his experiments on _all_ recruits, whether they liked it or not? Ajunta Pall refused and the Council ordered his arrest. The great one tried to warn the Republic about the schemer's vile deeds, and in response, the Council's lackeys had many of his allies killed. That was when the so called 'civil war' broke out."

"Lies!" snapped Revan immediately. "Don't try to lay the bastard's crimes at the Council's feet."

"Oh it is very true corpse thing." replied Malleus with perfectly measured timbre. "I should know, for I was there when it happened...But I can see that you will need further convincing." Revan backed away warily, his lightsaber held in front of him like a ward as the Renatus stood from his iron chair.

"I am going tear down your presumptions brother...," said Malleus said slowly, inching ever closer to his guest

"...about what you think you know about the Jedi Order and what is actually true, for to die in ignorance is the greatest crime of all. If the fates decree that you should live, then you should at least live knowing the truth. What you do with these facts are up to you."

_Everything_ _Malleus says is ash and dust in his mouth._

Revan knew he shouldn't heed anything Malleus had to say, but the seeds of doubt had been planted in his mind long ago. At one point, the Jedi thought that the Masters of his Order could do no wrong. But after that travesty with Melara, his faith in them had wavered. And according to Malleus words, the rot had started a lot earlier than you expected. So after moments of internal struggling, Revan lowered his blade fractionally.

"Very well. Say what you will,"

"First I want you to answer the question I asked before…" said Malleus quietly. "Do you know how Lucidae's feud started with me? Whyhe makes it his lifelong goal to stop me?"

"Of course," replied Revan immediately "He discovered your existence decades ago on Darith during one of your raids. A battle ensued and he maimed Victus whilst thwarting your sick slave trade. Since then, both of you have been trying to destroy the other."

"Decades?" Malleus laughed. "You think my revenge stems from some skirmish that might as well have happened yesterday?"

"It makes sense." Said the Jedi, keeping his voice calm. "He ruined your carefully laid out plans and recovered two very valuable children in the process that eventually became his apprentices. So you sought to make a mockery of his gains. Reducing T'shere to a cadaver and corrupting Mysteel's spirit."

"You are partly right," admitted Malleus. "Like I said, I wanted to hurt Lucidae. And what better way to hurt him than to tear his apprentices from his grasp, especially the Twi'lek, his pride and joy? But there is a flaw in your logic corpse thing. Don't you think it is a little odd that he would develop such an obsession with me for something so trivial a few decades ago, when he didn't even find me on the planet?"

"You weren't, but others saw you. Thalia for one. She witnessed firsthand the slaughter you committed to the Republic army." Despite the confidence in his voice, Revan felt less sure. Technically, Lucidae had completed his mission when he discovered the fate of the Army and rescued what was left of them... so there was no reason to continue the pursuit for a man he had never met. And the Jedi Order didn't lack for enemies. Mandalorians, Sith and other foes hounded the Republic every day with slave trade, raids and other dastardly deeds, feeding on the their planets like carrion birds. As a Master, Lucidae would not have ignored these threats without good reason.

_Could Lucidae have lied? Did he know of the Corrupter's existence before that incident?_

His host tilted his head to the side.

"Think brother. There is a very simple reason why he hounds us. My unbridled hate for him, his obsessiveness...doesn't it all point to one answer?"

When Revan gave no answer, Malleus said. "I will give you a hint. You have likely never heard Lucidae's name uttered in the Jedi Order. Yet he likely would have told you he was part of them at one point. Why do you think that is?"

Revan had thought of that himself although he had no satisfactory answer. "The Order is a big place." He said doubtfully. "And I imagine the council would not be eager to harp on members that they lost."

Malleus gave an amused smile.

"No, probably not. But _why_ did Lucidae leave the Order? Did he tell you that?"

"He...he didn't say." _There was a lot he didn't say_

"And why do you think he keeps it a secret?"

"...because he is ashamed. He said as much." Revan wondered where Malleus was going with these questions.

"Ashamed..." Malleus mused "yes I suppose he would be. After all, he is a damned twice over."

"Damned?" echoed Revan in surprise. "What are you babbling about?"

Malleus sighed, like he was trying to instruct a deaf child how to go through a maze with words alone. "Isn't it obvious? You do not lack for wits as your battlefield performance has shown me and the answer is right in front of you. _Think. _Why do you think you have never heard of him?"

"He kept a low profile..."

"Or?"

"...or his records were purged or confiscated."

Malleus nodded. "Good. And when would the council someone do that?"

"...When...when they committed a grievous crime."

"Exactly." replied Malleus approvingly. "So, you have a Master with no record in the Order, who ekes out an existence in the Outer Rim, like he is undergoing some sort of penance, hunting demons from the past. A man that seems to have unnaturally advanced knowledge of Ajunta Pall's followers and his research."

Revan's expression gradually changed from doubt to worry, something Malleus didn't fail to notice.

"You are close. I see it in you eyes."

The Jedi _could_ feel the pieces coming together...just like the battlefield, the puzzle was gradually becoming whole in his mind. But he didn't want to believe it. Because that would mean he had made a terrible mistake in being here... Because...because that would mean...

"Your plan...what you did to Lucidae..." said Revan slowly. "You wouldn't go through so much trouble to bring him down...unless you knew him personally...unless you hated him enough to do it. Someone you thought an ally but eventually betrayed your trust."

"Go on," Coaxed Malleus.

"It could only be reserved for someone who was once like a brother to you. And since Lucidae knows so much about the arch traitor's works, it means..."

Malleus didn't say anything, simply waiting for Revan to complete the final piece of the puzzle.

"...it means...you and Lucidae were both followers of Ajunta Pall."

The Renatus smiled. "Welcome to end of the thought process,"

* * *

The frantic _pitter patter_ of feet gave way to the Matarl's frenzied flight. He was tired now, fear and the constant exertion of running was taking its toll on his corrupted body. He needed to rest, to recuperate his strength.

_Just a few more steps...a few more then I'll rest. _

But he didn't. The Twi'lek didn't let himself collapse, just went on blind instinct, forcing his muscles to pull one leg up and then another. It didn't matter that his feet were red with blisters or that his muscles screamed in protest. His dogged need to keep running was a testament to the amount of his fear, the terror he felt that Matarl didn't simply collapse in a breathless heap.

Finally, he had to lean on the pillar, panting raggedly to catch his breath. The cramps in his stomach were getting worse, a sure indication that he needed to rest or at least eat something...someone. But not now...to stop now would mean a dagger in his back. Yet even as he scanned the corridor through sweat stained eyes, Matarl saw only darkness.

_I...I think I'm finally alone._

Once he was sure that no homicidal maniacs were in the immediate vicinity, Matarl fell to his knees and coughed out ragged breathes of air. Adrenaline pounded through his head like a roiling thunderstorm and his blackened lungs felt like they were on fire. Still, these pains were a small price to pay to avoid being corpse flesh.

The hunt had been harrowing, especially since Mysteel had nearly caught him at one point. After a good ten minutes of cat and mouse, the angry Twi'lek had chased him into one of the fortress' prison rooms, which unfortunately for him had no other exits. But no sooner had she closed in on him, an Abomination had rushed out from the darkness and wrestled the surprised female to the floor. Matarl didn't stop to question his luck as the two combatants maimed and clawed at each other like two savage beasts. He fled the scene of carnage and ran as fast as his legs would take him down the labyrinthine corridors.

Then he had kept running, trying desperately to find a passage that would take him out of his hellhole and avoid any other hostiles. At first this proved surprisingly effective. Maybe it was his transformation, but Matarl found at his vision had been altered to the point that he could actually make out the tunnels in pitch blackness. Also, sounds seemed crisper, clearer. Even between his splashing feet and thundering heartbeat, Matarl could hear the buzzing of an insect hundreds of meters away and the subtle vibrations of footsteps, warning him of potential enemies well in advance.

These newfound abilities let him stay hidden from Aethon. But every time Matarl found something that resembled an exit, the sound of blaster fire or distant screaming would ward him away from escape, gradually making him more frustrated. It seemed like Aethon had blockaded every avenue of escape and was determined to keep him stuck in this hole until they killed every last living thing. Unwilling to take any risk of being discovered, he had fled back into the lower passages and into the cover of darkness, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be cornered to a point of no return.

As he stopped to catch his breath, Matarl tried to piece together something. How had Mysteel and her allies found him so quickly? Lucidae tracking him down to this planet was surprising enough, but the fact that the bitch could pin him down to the exact _room_? That could not be a coincidence.

_A tracker...it must be some sort of tracker._

At some point, they must have bugged how? He did a quick pat down of his clothing and skin but could not find anything out of the ordinary. That likely meant whatever they were using to track him had been implanted. But how could they do that? Perhaps from some injury he sustained? A dart from a gun?

The Twi'lek replayed the events of the attack at Aethon's base. He had been punched and kicked by Thalia then stabbed in the thigh by that mongrel boy...but what if he had more than that? What if the youth wasn't so stupid after all and had managed to do more than wound him during the suicidal charge? Hurriedly, Matarl cut a tear into his trousers where the weapon had struck to reveal his palsied skin. The wound had scabbed over, but like a wounded animal trying to break free from its trap, Matarl clawed at his scab until he drew blood. Grimacing in pain, he plunged two nails into the flesh and dug around until he felt something sharp and solid just beneath the meat of his thigh.

_This is going to feel like agony._

With a growl, Matarl clenched and ripped the offending object out with _schlurrp_. His leg felt like it was on fire but the Twi'lek ignored the pain for the moment and inspected the gadget. It was a tracker, just as he thought, _a hunter probe_. He remembered it best as one of Kynes' toys, a high yield subspace transmitter which the sniper had used back in the army to track assassination targets. In this case, him.

Cursing, the Twi'lek dropped the tiny thing onto the floor and crushed it under his boot, stomping it over and over again.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! This thing nearly got me killed._

After letting his rageplay out, Matarl realized the sound of battle had diminished significantly. Neither did he hear anymore sounds of pursuit and for a brief moment, Matarl's spirit brightened. With a tentative exhale, the Twi'lek resumed his hobbling gait down the corridor.

_Maybe those monsters killed her." _He thought, daring to hope. _"Maybe I'm-_

A fist hit him straight in the face with a thundering _crack_ just as he tried to turn a corner.

Matarl reeled in agony as he felt his cheekbones crack. He looked up just in time to see another haymaker coming for him. Matarl blocked it frantically with his arms and let the force of the blow roll him away, desperate to put distance between him and his attacker. Blinking away blood from his eyes revealed a familiar scene.

Mysteel came stalking in, her sapphire eyes alight with fury and unbridled malice. She didn't say anything, but her movements were more than enough to convey her intent.

_You are dead. _They said with crystal clarity.

In a panic, Matarl unsheathed his dagger and flung the weapon at the female in an overhand swing. Mysteel simply sidestepped and the pathetic projectile flew harmlessly past. Quick as a snake, she covered the distance between them and kneed Matarl in the groin. T'shere had cut him from root to stem in their previous encounter but it felt like agony all the same. He crumpled onto the floor mewling like a pathetic baby.

While Matarl was moaning in pain, Mysteel kicked her victim's remaining weapons away and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. Matarl weighed at least thirty pounds more than Mysteel, but she had no problem hoisting him off his feet.

"No-no!" he gurgled, trying feebly to break free. A stinging blow across the face reduced his pathetic pleas to a whimper.

"_Shut up_ you bastard," Mysteel hissed. "Shut up so I can savor this moment."

Matarl heartbeat increased exponentially when he saw the glint of metal flash before his eyes. The Twi'lek had seen those flaying knives before...just as he remembered their lethal touch. Mysteel smiled coldly at his recognition.

"Just like old times isn't it?" There was no warmth when she said those words. Nothing resembling the cheerful, sing song voice the Twi'lek was famous for. Only bitterness and pain, like salt on a fresh wound. "My sister kept it for special occasions. Like cutting off your wretched manhood so you couldn't spill your seed into another helpless woman ever again. I thought it was only fitting I finish the job with it."

"L-listen!" Matarl stammered. "You don't have to kill me. I-"

He was interrupted with another stinging backhand. "What about my mother? Did you have to kill _her_?" Mysteel cut in angrily. Tears trailed down freely the side of her cheeks and her voice quavered with barely suppressed grief "Why did you do it bastard? Why couldn't you just have left her _alone_?"

Matarl felt his choler rise at the question.

"She-she deserved it! The whore stole my-" The knife flashed before Matarl's face, cutting off a sliver of flesh from his right cheek. Matarl screamed in agony as fire engulfed his face, but it was drowned out by his tormentor's voice.

"_Don't call her that, you useless fuck!" _Mysteel shrilled. Matarl tasted blood in the back of his mouth as she shook him. "Call her by her real name! Call her Thalia!"

"Th-Thalia," Matarl spat out a broken tooth. "She-she stole from me. My _boy_! She had no right to do that!"

Mysteel glare was unforgiving

"If she didn't, he would have grown up as wretched as you." she growled. "Although from what I've heard, he isn't that far off the mark,"

"Damn you! You know noth-" Matarl trailed off again when he felt the cold metal blade pressing painfully against the nape of his neck.

"I should have let T'shere kill you the first time." Mysteel said bitterly. "But no, I was too stupid and naïve, my head filled with all that nonsense Lucidae put in me about redemption and second chances."

She applied more pressure to the blade, drawing a gasp and blackened blood from her victim's neck. Matarl started hyperventilating.

"But there is no redemption for you Matarl." the Twi'lek's voice was chilling with its finality "There is no pit... no hell in this galaxy horrible enough to for the likes of you. That's why I'm going to make the last few minutes of your life as painful as possible."

"W-Wait! I can show you to your sist-"

"_I told you to shut your fucking mouth_!"

Another backhand slap silenced him abruptly, so strong that the Twi'lek felt a tooth fly away. It was followed by another kick to the stomach causing Matarl to collapse to the floor breathless. As he lay gasping for breath, Mysteel knelt down and yanked him up painfully by the lobe.

"When I'm done with you," she said in a low hiss "you'll tell me everything I want to know. But not until you're nothing more than a quivering lump of meat!"

"You-you don't understand!" rasped Matarl "If you kill me, the child dies as well! We-mpph!"

His begging was muffled as Mysteel shoved a wad of dirty cloth into his mouth and the female proceeded to tie his arms and wrists at knifepoint. When he was secure, Mysteel grabbed her prisoner by the back of his clothes and started dragging him back the way he came.

"What, what are you doing? Where are you taking me!" Matarl tried to say, but it all came out as a garbled mess. Mysteel seemed to get the gist of it however because she said. "Somewhere where we won't be disturbed."

Matarl screamed and tried to shout out for help, but all that came out was dull moan as the Twi'lek started dragging him to his death.

* * *

The conflict of emotions churning through Revan's head was almost too much to endure. Lucidae...to think that he was once one of Ajunta Pall's minions. A traitor to the Jedi Order and Republic. A man that had helped incite civil war. _And I helped him_..._I helped him retrieve his precious weapon...and then he sent me to bring it back into his grasping hands. _

The very thought brought a shudder through his spine. He felt soiled..._used_. Revan wanted to weep, to scream, to claw his skin in frustration but in end he just stood like a statue, unable to comprehend the enormity of his realization.

If Revan thought he was on the road to redemption when he met Lucidae, then he was _gravely_ mistaken. It was not hard for Malleus to notice his distress.

"Do you see now corpse thing?" He said softly "Do you see irony of your self righteousness, the inherent hypocrisy of your goals? I imagine Lucidae convinced you to do his bidding by offering you glimpses of false hope. Filling your head with rhetoric about how noble the Jedi cause is and how they are the so called pillars of support for the Republic. That fiend always did have a gift for oratory I grant you and children like you lap it up like cheap swill."

Revan remained silent but his sword arm fell slackly to is side and the glowing blade disappeared back into its sheath. Malleus drew his arms to his back walked past Revan, admiring the macabre art around the dining hall as he spoke.

"Do you know the greatest failing of the False Order's followers is? Their blind devotion to absolutes. The Jedi have always believed that the council's words are some holy writ that must be followed to the letter. 'Fear leads to the Dark Side, so it must be a crime to feel fear.' 'Feel compassion for others but not love or lust for these emotions bestir darker urges from within.' 'Always be merciful.' and so on. In other words, initiates are conditioned to follow, obey and regurgitate mindless drivel so they can become more disciplined."

Malleus made a disgusted noise.

"But it _isn't_ discipline they preach, is it? It's a recipe for creating a mindless automaton. And that's what the Council wants. Because as long as they add a clause that a Master's will is an embodiment of these rules, their followers will strive to do whatever they say, no matter the cost. The perfect cover up, beautiful in its simplicity. The perfect foil."

Malleus turned back to face his guest.

"As long as a people like you follows these rules, you will always remain pure…in mind and spirit so they would say. Never mind that their concepts of morality are hidebound and useless in almost any practical situation. It is easy to follow this code when there is no cost to oneself, but impractical to base an entire organization around it when reality cares nothing about such rules, wouldn't you say?"

Revan opened his mouth to speak but it felt like someone had poured sand into it. "The...the rules are what separates the Order from tyranny. It guides us, keeps the Jedi on from falling to the dark side. Rules that have...that have withstood the test of time," he croaked. Even _he_ didn't believe it, and Malleus knew it.

"Oh really..."Malleus said quietly "Let me give you an example of how 'useful' your precious moral code is in a real life situation. A man you are pursuing has captured two prisoners. One of them has been forcefully implanted with an explosive powerful enough to level a fair sized city, but will detonate if someone tries to remove it. In sixty seconds, it will go off anyways but the man tells you he has also sewn the deactivation device deep into the of other prisoner's bodies. So the only way to deactivate the bomb is to forcibly remove it from this person, which _will_ kill him from shock. But by not doing anything you will likely kill everybody in the immediate vicinity. What do you do?"

"I..." Revan hesitated, still reeling from the verbal assault. "...I would find a way to save us all," he finished somewhat pathetically.

Malleus laughed. "How? By wishing the problem away? Your precious Jedi code would never prepare you to make such a choice. There is no edict, no rule that will allow you to emerge from this scenario unscathed or your honor unsullied. That is why the Jedi Order will fail corpse thing, why it is failing now. It is so easy for their enemies to exploit their rigid and blind devotion to their so called morals. And while the Jedi cling to their scripture and dogma, Mandalorians, hostile aliens and Sith flock from all sides to feast on their wretched domain."

Malleus tapped the dining table idly as he looked at his guest. Revan really did look like a corpse now, the color having drained away from his face along with his convictions.

"Do you feel betrayed brother? Used? Don't worry, in that we are kindred spirits. The hate that I feel for him is no less than I feel for those despots that sit on their throne of bones."

Revan tried to swallow but found that his mouth was as parched and dead as his sense of self worth. He really had no idea what to do now so he did the next best thing. He stalled.

"Why...what happened between you two...between you and Lucidae?"

"Why did he turn away from Ajunta Palls cause you mean?" Malleus sneered at the memory. "Because he is a coward, or at the very least, an opportunist. When it looked like our cause was lost, Lucidae chose to betray his own side rather than stand and die. At a critical battle too, which reversed the tide of war in favor of your wretched council. Oh there was some issue with a loyalist Jedi that was being tortured but in the end, Lucidae did all that he did for self preservation. So you see corpse thing, he is damned twice over. In the eyes of Ajunta Pall and the Jedi Order."

"But...he...he looks..."

"Well preserved?" finished Malleus a chuckle "Yes. The wretched thing has found remarkable ways to cheat death hasn't he? But then again, Lucidae always had his secrets."

Revan remembered the words the former Master had said when he had remarked on Kynes youthfulness.

_Those touched by the Force have a sense of timelessness to their features._ The man had said cryptically. Revan should have picked up on the double meaning.

_First Melara, now him...are no Masters trustworthy? I should have seen it. I should have been better prepared to see through his lies._

As his face contorted into deeper distress, Malleus remarked.

"So there you have the facts brother, and the reason why your cause is doomed to fail from the start. Nevertheless, you made a choice when you set foot onto my soil. Now you have to decide what is more important, your precious honor or your mission? Because even if you kill me, you will only be helping another traitor do his wet work. Either way, in the eyes of the Jedi Order you will be committing a grave heresy."

Revan did think. He thought about all the events that he had suffered throughout all this time. All the betrayals, half truths and horrors that had brought him to this place. But most of all, he thought of his honor. Could it still be salvaged? _No_, the Jedi thought. That was a dead shrivelled thing, as useless as a paper shield against an enemy that used his righteousness as toilet paper. What good were his convictions in the face of such unbridled faceless evil? Worst, what could he fight for now that his beliefs were once again torn in shambles? Help one traitor and kill the other or do nothing and let them pursue their agendas? It was truly a situation where he damned if you do, damned if you don't.

_What should I do?_ Revan thought looked at his light saber, gripped tightly in his right hand.A blade without direction was a pitiful thing, his Master had said. His Master...what would he do in this winless scenario?

_You never prepared me for this..._he thought bitterly. _You never prepared me for so much treachery...to be so helpless_

Helpless... He was helpless, just like Myteel, someone who had drowned herself in a sea of despair and turned into a bitter, rage fuelled entity. The thought galvanized the Jedi. He knew that whatever happened, he did not want to become _that_. Then Revan belatedly remembered why she was here...why _he_ was here. To stop a madman from unleashing death on the galaxy...and to save an innocent child.

_Yes_ thought Revan suddenly. _Thalia's daughter can still be rescued. I owe her that much at least._

If nothing else, the Jedi had to cling to the things he knew that were true. Malleus was a monstrous cannibal that meant to usher in a new age through billions of deaths. And his victims were legion. Children, parents, Thalia...they all deserved justice. And he was in the position to give it to them. Because in this uncaring galaxy, the only justice that existed was that which you made for yourself.

It was not perfect, Revan knew but it was real. As someone who had sworn to defend the Republic, he couldn't always make things right, but he could _try_ to. Like Lucidae said_, _a measure of a true Jedi Knight was not in lying down and admitting to an inevitable defeat but one that stood against adversity. The man might have been a fount of lies, but at least that was true. So in his darkest hour, Revan came to his decision.

"You die Malleus." he said quietly.

Malleus did not seem surprised by his decision.

"You are committed to seeing me dead, I could see that from the start...even without my second sight. But do you do this for Lucidae, your precious Jedi Order...or for revenge?"

"None of them." said Revan quietly. "I'm doing this for me."

"You?"

The Jedi strode forth so he was almost chest to chest with the malevolent being and met Malleus' milky gaze.

"You are a cancer Malleus. Regardless of the truth of your words, the Reborn are a contagion upon this galaxy, moreso than any Sith or Mandalorian. I could no sooner tolerate your existence anymore than I could any plague roaming unchecked."

After a brief pause, he added

"But you are right...about the Jedi at least, for the more I see of the galaxy, the more I realize that nothing is truly black and white. The Order _is_ a dying institution, tied down to its dogma. What's more, I have seen the fallacy in the code you speak of, how people use their rank and its teachings as a convenient excuse to hide their own hypocrisy. Such crimes should never go unpunished. But..." The Jedi trailed off

"Yes...?" pressed Malleus.

"_But_..." Revan continued. "I understand that is important for the _concept_ of the Jedi to exist. Nobody from the Order is perfect, especially me. And even though they are as fallible as any other mortal, the Republic at large needs to believe that the Jedi Knights really are the paragons of virtue that are spouted in legend. For we _are_ the Republic's pillars of support, the protectors that shield their people from the horrors of the galaxy...horrors like you. That _illusion_ must never be broken, especially in these darkest of times. And in striving to be better despite our mistakes, we walk the proper path."

Malleus stared at Revan with his sightless gaze. The Jedi felt the weight of intense scrutiny, as if he was sifting through his mind, just like Victus had. What he saw must have given him pause because Malleus took a step back and assumed a pensive pose.

"So, you dispense justice upon one group yet look blindly away from the others. If you triumph today, will you ignore the sins of Lucidae and let his tainted legacy continue unpunished? What about the Council? Like I said, they are far from guiltless. And the Masters of today have many hidden crimes that the Republic at large doesn't know about."

"Such as?"

Malleus shrugged. "If you survive to see the next sunrise, go ask Lucidae about them. The traitor is intricately familiar with the darkness the Council hides. Or don't. Some things are probably best left unknown."

Revan shook his head.

"Lucidae is doing penance even as we speak...you saw to that. But if the council is guilty of the travesties as you say, then they will answer for them. I will see to it personally. But today...today I deal with you traitor."

Malleus laughed.

"You do not lack for gall corpse thing. Well, let it not be said that the Reborn was not a gracious host."

He made an 'after you' gesture to the empty part of the dining hall. Revan nodded solemnly and the pair walked slowly side by side for the inevitable.

"I admit brother, I did not see this fight coming." remarked Malleus, giving a sideways look to him. "I thought it was my destiny to lead the Reborn in the crucible of war against the false Jedi and their fiefdom. Then again, there were a great many things I have not seen."

"But know that even if you triumph today, the Jedi Order you know will not survive to see the next century, for its death warrant is written as assuredly as all our fates. One way or another, their temples will be burned down to the ground, cleansed from root to stem. Perhaps the Order will be rebuilt, because like you said the Republic will yearn for a symbol of protection. And I accept that...as long as the sins of the past be erased forever. My life is nothing compared to vindication."

As they came to stop at the designated positions, Malleus gave Revan something that could pass as a smile.

"Are you ready corpse thing to see what destiny holds in store for you?"

Revan looked back at him unsmiling.

"Draw your blade,"

With an slight bow, Malleus reached from under his loose torn sleeves and slowly drew out his lightsaber. The weapon had an ebon shaft that was utterly unreflective, like it was designed to suck up all the light around it. When the Renatus ignited it, the weapon seemed to sigh in satisfaction as the lethal blade was released from it's confines. Revan drew his own lightsaber and let it come to life, the hiss of its energy discharge a sign of the weapon's desire to cut into enemy flesh.

Both combatants fell into their fighting stance. Malleus widened his posture and lowered his center of gravity, like a predator that was ready to spring at a moment's notice. Revan crouched with one leading foot, letting his humming blade come up to his face and positioning it to plunge straight into Malleus' heart. Then they waited, waited for the right time strike.

As Revan looked at the monster he was going to kill, he felt a distant sadness. Not for Malleus of course, but for what they both represented...manpower. Revan had been elevated to Jedi Knight at a time when the Order had been reduced to such a shell of their former glory, shortly after the bloody war caused by Exar Kun. That man might have been the latest to turn traitor, but the Jedi's internal strife was a story that repeated itself over and over again. A few decades or three thousand years ago, it made no difference, the Jedi were constantly killing themselves in a self perpetuating cycle.

_Madness, utter madness. How much has the Republic suffered because the Jedi couldn't set their differences aside? _

Here they were, two of the deadliest warriors that this galaxy had produced, ready to beat each other to a bloody pulp. Both of them represented countless years of training and precious resources that the Republic and the Order had to offer. But now, they were going to kill each other because of some petty grievance that no one in the Order today even remembered.

No, if the Republic was to survive, the Jedi would need to end this vicious cycle, to rebuild its very foundation so that no one person could cause such a violent schism again. Revan vowed that if he survived this battle, he would do everything in his power to ensure that the Jedi would change for the better.

And so for the next few agonizing seconds, neither warrior spoke, remaining rigid like statues as they waited for the right moment to strike. Their unblinking stares mimicked that of Renatus' victims that were strewn across the wall. A pin could have dropped a hundred meters away and they would have still heard it. Finally, it was his opponent that broke the standstill, with a smile on his ruined face that seemed almost wistful.

"Good luck brother," Malleus said softly.

And with that, the _Renatus_ attacked.

* * *

_Author's note: Since Halloween is around the corner, I figured I would make something for the occasion. You can see what it is on my deviantart page. Enjoy._


	39. Chapter 39 The Rescue Part 3

_It was good to see you again brother..._

_-Malleus_

* * *

The Jedi met his opponent head-on with a series of rapid maneuvers: High block, two low cuts and a shoulder parry that ended with a cross down which deflected Malleus' thrusting blade. Revan pivoted smoothly with the parry, finishing his counter clockwise block to slice at his opponent's exposed neck. The lightsaber whistled wide from the throat but still drew a thin gash as it sailed past and Malleus grunted, more surprised than pained. Before Revan could follow through, the _Renatus_ leapt back, voluntarily breaking the exchange and touched the burnt part of his sallow skin with casual curiosity.

"Very good. Excellent speed and perfect coordination on that counter," commented Malleus, as he circled the Jedi like a instructor. Revan never let his eyes off the man. A blade to the neck was usually lethal, or at least very debilitating. But in Malleus' case, Revan knew that nothing short of a complete decapitation would disable his enemy. Malleus gave him a ghost of a smile.

"Let's see what other tricks you have up your sleeve."

The pair came together again and continued their lethal dance. Malleus' fought more cautiously now, his lightsaber snaking out lightning quick but more to gauge the other opponent' style than with any real intent to kill.

Revan took this opportunity to press the pace with a series of quick and rapid attacks, which rattled off of Malleus guard harmlessly. Then he swung down at Malleus' chest only to have it deftly blocked with another well placed blade. The Jedi was undeterred, letting the tip of his blade scrape off Malleus' parry then dropping to one knee as the predictable riposte came swinging past his head. But Revan was already spinning, executing a complete 360 at midriff to deliver a savage blow at his opponent's waist. It was a daring maneuver, and the Jedi was rewarded with the hiss of steam as the blade began cutting into Malleus side. But before Revan could press the issue, Malleus slapped him with a stinging backhand that sent the Jedi rolling several meters on the floor.

Revan couldn't see it but Malleus was smiling at him as he crawled to his hands and feet.

"The double edged spiral, very exotic." The Renatus said softly, inspecting the mottled hand that had landed the blow.

"Nothing I haven't seen before,"

The Jedi shook the cobwebs from his head and cursed himself for a fool. That last pass had left him dangerously exposed to a counter attack, something that Malleus had exploited. He reminded himself that someone like the _Renatus_ was not someone who could be overwhelmed with elaborate swordplay and counters. Victus had taught him that lesson very painfully.

_How __do __you __kill __someone __that __feels __no __pain? __Who __has__had __every __nerve __ending __re-wired __so __that __every __sensation __is __numbed __or __euphoric ,__no __matter __the __damage __sustained? _This was the question that Revan asked himself as he dusted himself and got up.

Lucidae had stressed that the Reborn were truly a breed apart from the Jedi and Sith. Quicker, stronger and more durable in every conceivable way from their former counterparts, the scions of Ajunta Pall had been blessed (or cursed) into immortal killing machines. Revan also belatedly realized that Malleus has had three millennia to master every fighting style known to the Jedi Order while likely inventing one or two himself. Just as the _Renatus_ had demonstrated moments ago, he would recognize every attack and meet every counter with one of his own.

So Revan decided that he couldn't use traditional tactics, or even normal methods of attacks to fight the _Corrupter__of__Souls_. No if Revan was going to win this battle, he would need to take his fighting approach to drastic new levels, to be even more cunning and brutal than his foe.

All this flashed through his mind in matter of nanoseconds, and when Malleus came hurtling at him blade outstretched, Revan crouched like a predator.

The _Renatus_ was leading his charge with a right thrust of his deadly lightsaber. He obviously expected the Jedi to beat a hasty retreat from his rampage or at least try to parry. Which is why it came as a complete surprise when Revan ran at _him_. The Renatus faltered ever so slightly at this development, and before the blade could cut off his head, Revan hunched and barrelled into his legs. The two collided with the crack of thunder but it was the _Renatus_ who went flying through the air before crashing headfirst into the cold unyielding floor.

Cursing softly, Malleus rolled to his side quickly but before he could get his bearings, Revan was upon him, lightsaber jabbing for his face. Malleus, quicker than many would have thought possible, swept the blade away with his own in a shower of sparks. Revan had expected this maneuver though and his left hand shot out to jab Malleus sharply between the eyes. Black fluid spurted in all directions as the Jedi twisted his fingers deeper into Malleus's corrupted flesh.

The _Renatus_ snarled in surprise and tried to fling the Jedi away, but Revan was tenuous. He grabbed the front of his enemy's neck with his left hand and landed blow after thundering blow with the hilt of his lightsaber straight into Malleus' unprotected skull. Revan could feel the satisfying crack of bone with each hit. Reeling and half blinded, Malleus lashed out to catch the latest punch during the downswing and with a sharp twist of his shoulders, he flung Revan straight into the air. But the Jedi had dug his fingers deep into Malleus' flesh beforehand, and managed to rip off a pound of skin from his opponent as a parting gift. There was a sickening _slrchrrrrp_ as meat ripped off of bone and tendon followed by Malleus' hiss of anger.

The Jedi somersaulted in mid flight and landed lightly on the floor, pivoting back to face his opponent. Malleus was getting up unsteadily and clutching the newly damaged part of his body. The _Renatus_ looked even more horrid if that was possible. His entire jaw was exposed now, with pale bone and meat glistening wetly with his corrupted fluids. Revan could see that Malleus' normally placid expression was replaced with something that resembled annoyance as he looked at the man that had marked him.

"That was my favourite skin," he growled, pointing to the piece of corrupted meat in the Jedi's grasp. Revan considered it for a moment before tossing the horrid thing to the floor. Malleus started stalking towards him with murderous intent.

"Yours will be its replacement,"

Once again, they clashed in the centre of the hall with a spectacular thundering of energy discharge. This time both opponents stood their ground, their lightsabers coming together again and again in a deadly ballet of twisting limbs and swords. Both opponents represented the pinnacle of swordmanship albeit with vastly contrasting styles. The Jedi fought with precise brutal strikes and perfect coordination while Malleus responded with tightly chained aggression and a conglomeration of instinctive thrusts, leaps and swipes of his clawed hands.

No spectator could truly appreciate the interplay of their blades, how both men reacted and counter reacted to each other's movements, sometimes so quickly that it seemed they were anticipating a move ten sequences ahead. Revan ducked one swing then viciously slashed with his own blade only to have it swiped away by a savage counter. The Jedi was forced to shift with the momentum, his lightsaber coming in a fast staccato to block high, low then high again. Malleus followed through with a series of low scything cuts that the Jedi avoiding by alternating between blocks and short hops, doing a little tap dance around his opponent. Then without warning, the Jedi somersaulted backwards, catching Malleus' jaw with his boot in mid fight. The _Renatus_ jerked back stunned, giving Revan the moment's respite he needed to re-orient himself and resume the offensive.

He came back at Malleus with a vicious sequence of frontal attacks aimed for the head, neck and shoulder. They rapped in a shrieking undiluted note against Malleus' lightsaber, meeting his blade in a blur of red mist. The ringing seemed to go on forever until Revan broke rhythm and locked his blade against Malleus' parry. Digging in his heels, the Jedi spun his sword in a sweeping clockwise motion that blasted his opponent's guard wide. Quick as a viper, Revan finished the sequence by delivering an explosive thrust to Malleus' exposed shoulder.

The Renatus grunted, taking the blow with typical stoicism, and rushed into the counter, attempting to take off Revan's head. The Jedi twisted his body just enough so the blade whistled past his face then thrust his blade out, using his enemy's own momentum to cut a deep swath into Malleus' stomach as he sailed past. The lightsaber hissed and sputtered as it sheared through cloth and rotten flesh to expose Malleus smoking intestines, which writhed like a hundred maggots. This time, the Jedi was rewarded with a strangled cry of pain as the _Renatus_ doubled over, clutching his stomach to stop his entrails from leaking out of the wound.

_That __was __for __Thalia, __Mysteel...and __T'shere __I __suppose._

The Renatus was still reeling as Revan gathered up frightening momentum and bull rushed him with the strength of a small meteor. The force of the impact was so great that both combatant flew like bullets, colliding headlong into the chamber wall, with Malleus taking the brunt of the force. The sound was akin to a hammer sundering a mountainside and spidery webs cracked out against the stone from all directions near the impact.

Spitting out chunks of rock and mortar dust, Malleus was wavering unsteadily on one knee before as a shadow descended upon him. He looked up and saw that Revan had raised his weapon, poised for a decapitating strike. Snarling something incomprehensible in his bastard Sith tongue, Malleus grabbed Revan's arm on the downswing, halting his momentum entirely. With a snarl, the ancient warrior hoisted Revan by the front of his robes and swung him contemptuously off the floor like a rag doll.

Revan was airborne again, sailing twenty meters before crashing straight into the other end of the hall. Bone crunched in protest against the impact, drawing a strangled grunt of pain from the Jedi. Revan half landed, half fell to the floor, catching himself with an outstretched hand so he didn't collapse completely. Then he barely had time to catch his breath as Malleus closed the distance between them with frightening speed. Through bloodied eyes, Revan saw the Renatus aim a vicious swing at his midsection, fully intent on cleaving him in half.

_This isn't going as well as I hoped..._

Without any other recourse, he rushed into Malleus guard, snagging the attack arm under his armpit to halt the blow. Unable to bring his weapon to bear, Malleus tried to shake his opponent away but Revan clung on tenuously like an annoying parasite. With his free hand, the Jedi started perforating Malleus' abdomen with short savage stabs of his lightsaber, revealing even more of the mottled withered flesh beneath his tattered rags.

Malleus growled in annoyance from the latest harassment while Revan attempted to lashed out for his exposed jugular. But the killing blow was thwarted as Malleus caught the attack in his remaining free arm exactly like the Jedi had. Both of them were suddenly gridlocked and their attacks were effectively neutralized. Caught in their deadly and unbreakable embrace, both warriors glared at each other, their faces literally millimetres away. Malleus' ruined lip muscles twisted into something resembling a leer.

"That was amusing, little brother. But you are out of tricks and I am growing impat-"

Revan leaned in and _clamped_ down onto his opponent's lower lip with his teeth much to Malleus' shock and anger. Before he could react, the Jedi twisted his head savagely, ripping apart Malleus lower mouth and sending gouts of black ichorous fluid everywhere.

The _Renatus_ howled an undulated tone of pain, the first sure sign Revan had truly wounded him. He felt his opponent's grip slacken but before the Jedi could take advantage, Malleus started thrashing, his wild gyrations forcefully shaking the Jedi from his body like a tick. Revan landed lightly on both feet then backed away from his opponent, spitting out the gobbet of ruined flesh from is mouth. He regarded Malleus dispassionately as he roared in blind incoherence, slashing his lightsaber violently in the air like a madman.

"Not just yet," finished Revan, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of hand.

After several more seconds of flailing and screaming, Malleus gathered enough wits to glare at Revan, black blood pouring freely from his ruined face. Somewhere among the morass of pulpy ruined flesh, two white dots glared balefully back at Revan. And they _hated._

"Congratulations _brother_," Malleus rasped in a voice that sounded like two chainsaws grinding together. Revan was uncomfortably aware that a strange smoke wafting was out from Malleus' many wounds.

"You have made me angry….you won't like me when I'm angry."

Before he could ask what he meant, Revan suddenly felt an incredible pressure building around the room. The Jedi glanced around warily as the tangy smell of ozone started permeating his nostrils and his stomach lurching uncomfortably while the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The Jedi could not shake the horrible feeling that he had just started a cataclysmic event, something akin to waking a sleeping dragon. That feeling only intensified when he look back at Malleus.

_Force take me…_

Revan stared in horror as Renatus had started glowing, _glowing!_with a bloody incandescent light, pale red flames that licked his body like tongues of a serpent. The Jedi instinctively recoiled as he felt his skin starting to burn at Malleus' sudden transformation, the sheer malevolence of the energy surrounding the man anathema to his senses. He covered his eyes and resisted the urge to vomit. The pain was blinding. It felt like Malleus was literally drilling nails into his skin by just staring with his smouldering eyes.

_What__is__happening?_ Revan thought, although he had the sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was happening. The Force was an energy field that surrounded everything and binded every living creature within the galaxy together in harmony. Furthermore, some Masters claimed that if one had a strong enough connection to it, their power could actually manifest in an aura that was visible even to the untrained eye. Revan remembered seeing this phenomena before, against his battle with the possessed Mandalorian Taborous Sabot. He remembered seeing the same surge during his battle with Victus, when the deranged man had lost all control and overwhelmed him with a beserker's rage.

What Malleus was showing was similar to those events. But this...this was so much more potent, so much more terrifying with its sheer focus. The Renatus' material body was a cage for the man's awesome power, woven and knitted under a veil of flesh and bone. And like an overflowing dam, that power was leaking out from its corporeal prison, manifesting as pure unadulterated fury.

Truly the sheer potential that Ajunta Pall weaved into this man with his dark science was terrifying.

Suddenly the ghostly apparition threw back his head and roared.

_"arggghhhhhhhGHHHHH!"_

Grasping his ligthsaber with both hands, Malleus swung it down like an executioner's axe. The attack sent a shockwave shrieking down the hall, tearing through solid stone and straight at the Jedi. Revan broke out of his gaping trance and barely managed to lunge away as the titanic force sundered past, catapulting him even further..

Even as he smacked hard to the floor, Revan could feel the edges of his cloak smoldering and he hastily rolled on the ground to put the flames down. Turning around, all the Jedi could see was a gaping abyss where there was once solid stone. And that was only with one _swing!_

_Holy__shit__…_Revan stared in horror at the destruction wrought by his opponent. He suspected Malleus' full power was something that few had seen firsthand and which none had ever survived. The fact that he was using it now meant that Revan must have seriously pissed him off…much more than he originally anticipated.

Before Revan could appreciate just how much trouble he had managed to put himself in, the glowing spectre that was Malleus rumbled in, each step sending tremors down the hall. The Jedi ducked Malleus' harrowing overhand, feeling the ends of his hairs singe as the blade _whooshed_ pass, creating another gaping wound in the wall behind them.

The attack was devastating but slow…almost telegraphed, and Revan attempted to counter with a stab of his lightsaber into Malleus' chest. The Jedi was brutally rebuffed however as the _Renatus_ _grabbed_ the blade with his offhand...his bare hand! Before Revan could even comprehend how that was possible, Malleus wrenched his lightsaber away and aimed a punch at his chest.

Desperately, the Jedi blocked by crossing his arms. The metal of his gauntlets and the bones underneath _crunched_ with a wet pop at the impact and the force of the blow sent him hurtling across the room. The Jedi rolled several meters, limbs and legs flailing like a crash dummy before gravity finally put him at rest. Revan groaned as slowly crawled to all fours, coughing up frothy welters of blood in the process.

_This __DEFINITELY __isn't __going __as __well __as __I'd __hoped. _He thought, struggling to one knee.

The sound of roiling thunder forced his attention up and he saw the familiar and hazy image of Malleus stalking menacingly towards him, lightsaber poised for the kill.

Weaponless, the Jedi didn't even bother to try and block Malleus' attacks. He dodged the first swipe and continued leaping out of the way as Malleus ploughed in, roaring incoherently with the voice of the damned. Each swipe of his lightsaber sent shockwaves tearing through the stone floor, leaving huge gouges in it's wake. And it was all Revan could do to twist and dodge out of the way so not get caught in his destructive aftermath.

The Jedi led the insane man on a merry chase around the hall, eventually scrambling for his lightsaber that had clattered underneath the dining table. As he retrieved it, Revan ducked a swing that would have bisected him from head to toe. Instead, Malleus' attack sundered the table, showering both of them in splintered wood and rotten meat. Putting distance from the maniac, Revan reached into his cloak and threw half a dozen of his miniature thermo detonators at the raving lunatic. The tiny spheres bounced off of Malleus' leathery skin, then engulfed the Reborn in a fiery plume of red plasma and smoke. Malleus screamed in rage and for a fleeting moment, Revan thought that the attack had hampered his opponent. But to his dismay, the fiend came rushing through the explosion, lined from head to toe in flame without even breaking stride.

Malleus ruined features glared venomously at Revan as he pointed a bony hand at his direction. A raging storm of lightning shot shout out from his palm and Revan felt fresh hot pain racing up his limbs. He yelled in agony before being carried aloft again, flung away by the concussive force of Malleus' attack. This time, Jedi collected enough wits about him as he flew in midair to crouch into a ball and direct his momentum towards one of the glassy windows lining the concrete wall. He crashed through the flimsy barrier, and landed none too kindly on the bed of sharp brittle glass that preceded him.

Groaning in pain, Revan picked himself up gingerly and found to his mild surprise that none of his bones seemed to have been broken. Looking around, he saw the room that Malleus had catapulted him into a room that was dark and deathly chill. Squinting his eyes, the Jedi could make out hooded statues that stood in silent vigil over huge stone caskets, each marked with some sort of archaic symbol. The statues themselves were surrounded by long sturdy pillars with torches on either side, giving a feeble light to the dark oppressive room. It finally dawned upon Revan where he was.

_A crypt...this is where Malleus' former cohorts must be buried. The traitors from the great war._

Revan didn't get the chance to appreciate the significance of that fact as the wall north of him exploded in a spectacular display of mortar dust and broken rock. Before the dust even settled, Malleus came charging through the breach with all the grace of a dancing Rancor. The _Renatus_ didn't even bother moving around the obstacles, simply crushing pillars and knocking over statues in his monstrous rampage to reach his target. Revan shook his head in disbelief at his opponent's sheer doggedness to see him dead.

_How can someone have so much hate?_

With lunging spurts of speed, Malleus closed the gap and aimed a downward swipe at his head. Revan moved to dodge but saw too late the feint that it was meant to be and Malleus' other fist cracked him in the cheek. White explosions erupted in his vision and the Jedi was forced to one knee, which actually saved him as Malleus' follow through swipe missed him by a hair's width. Revan forced the pain away and turned his fall into a counterattack, slashing at Malleus thigh. He was rewarded with an angry hiss as his lightsaber cut through bone and sinew.

Growling at the pathetic attack, Renatus kicked his kneeling opponent, sending the Jedi skidding several feet until he crashed none to kindly into a coffin with a _crack_. The force of his impact toppled him AND the coffin, spilling out the cadaver onto an undignified heap right on top of his prone form. Revan growled in disgust, shoving a moth eaten jaw away from his face.

_So much for respecting the dead..._

The Jedi was a lot slower getting up, his head pounding a thunderstorm from the severe beating he was taking. Between the blood and the roaring pain in his skull, Revan could barely see. But he did hear footsteps so the Jedi dodged blindly to the side, narrowly avoiding Malleus as he hurtled straight past and crush into the supporting masonry. Massive chunks of rock rained down from the statue, crashing into Malleus' gaunt form.

_Die __you __bastard, __just __die_ Revan prayed as he scrambled as far away as he could from the new mess.

To his dismay, the _Corrupter_ shrugged the rocks off as if their were only raindrops. Then he continued to swing and claw at Revan with wild abandon, destroying priceless artifacts and ruining his cohorts resting places. There was no finesse to Malleus' movements, no fancy swordplay, just a lumbering monster with the primal urge to kill. Whatever madness that had engulfed the _Renatus,_ithad apparently robbed him of his wits as well.

_I've __seen __Rancors __with __more __self __discipline __than __this __freak_. Revan thought as he wrenched away from a particularly nasty stroke that ended up ripping most of the robes from his right arm. By now, his clothes looked almost as haggard and threadbare as his opponent's and the Jedi felt himself reaching the end of his strength. His heart beat erratically and his lungs felt like were on fire from the sheer exertion of the fight. If he didn't kill Malleus soon, he would not even have the strength to raise his weapon. But Revan didn't dare to try and counter Malleus' attacks for fear of losing a limb. The last time he held his ground against a maniac, he had lost an eye. No...Revan could only hope to deflect the onslaught enough to grasp another precious few seconds of survival.

Another shockwave from Malleus' weapon sent Revan tumbling away, the attack splitting the wall behind him into fine powder. It was at this moment that the Jedi felt his legs buckling . At first, Revan thought he head truly reached the edge of his endurance, but then he realized it was the whole room that was shaking. Not just from Malleus' clomping footsteps but the entire room.

The Jedi looked around and realized Malleus reckless rampage had compromised the integral structure of the crypt. Huge spidery webs had emerged within the foundations of the walls and the pillars were cracking under the strain of supporting the ceiling. Revan's first impulse was to vacate the room as quickly as possible less he be crushed under the rubble like before. But when he saw the monster barreling in at him, Revan got an idea.

_It's crazy...but it might be my only chance._

The Jedi stood his ground as Malleus slashed out for his head. He grunted in pain as the weight of the attack nearly ripped his arms out of their sockets. But the Jedi managed to deflect the attack and followed it with his own stinging riposte. The blow struck the Renatus cleanly on the side of his neck, ripping through tendons and a fair chunk of his larynx. Malleus tried to roar but it only came out as a gurgling hiss. Yet instead of reeling back like a normal opponent, he pounced forward and punched the Jedi in stomach. Revan gagged as the wind blown out of his lungs, doubling over in pain. The _Renatus_ took this moment to grab his robes and ram his head straight into the Jedi's face.

Revan's entire world exploded in pain and his vision blurred with white dots. Distantly, he felt his weapon slip out from his fingers but for some reason, could not comprehend the significance of that fact. His head lolled back and forth and he could smell Malleus' rancid breath as the Renatus held him aloft, dangerously closes to his face. The heat from Malleus' body had subsided and a glint of intelligence came back to the horrid man's eyes.

"Impressive. You almost managed to last five minutes against me" the _Renatus_' lisped through ruined lips. "But in the end, it was for naught."

He raised his lightsaber and poised it to strike at Revan's heart.

"Take heart brother, I will remember what you did today. It will be recorded into the annals of our history."

The Jedi didn't reply. His blood stained eyes were screwed shut as if in fierce concentration and he was no longer resisting. Malleus nodded, thinking his opponent was preparing for his death. But even as he drew his blade for the killing blow, Malleus felt something large and sharp hit him in the shoulder.

Malleus looked up and was welcomed with a large stone smashing into his face. He staggered in surprise as another clipped him followed by three more. It was only then that the _Renatus_ saw the ceiling groaning under immense pressure as spidery webs cracked its entire surface and realized that the Jedi was forcing the room to cave in.

"No." whispered Malleus.

Revan summoned the last vestiges of his energy and slammed his palms into the _Renatus_' chest. His attack had the desired effect and Malleus loosened his grip ever so slightly, enough for the Jedi to twist away from his grasp. And not a moment too soon. A particularly large boulder, the size of a speeder _cracked_ straight into Malleus' skull. Even the Renatus' enhanced genome couldn't shrug off that damage and he collapsed to one knee. Pieces of statue, brick and other masonry were falling in earnest now, all piling up on Malleus like a landslide.

Revan slinked away from the worst of the fallout, ignoring Malleus' muffled roars of outrage as he was engulfed in stone. He managed to crawl under a fallen statue, using the structure as a shield to ward off most of the deadly hail. For the next few seconds , the Jedi waited under the statue, listening to the cacophony of falling rock. Stone, dust and marble fell all around the room, and Revan thought he would suffocate under the mass of debris. But gradually the noise abated, replaced by sporadic clunks of smaller debris, until finally there was only silence.

Revan listened for ten more seconds to make sure nothing was moving, then allowed himself the luxury of passing out.

* * *

Matarl screamed silently all the way to his doom.

The room Mysteel brought him into was filled with death, a horrible place saturated with crimson light. Or maybe the entire room was red but in truth, it was too hard to tell with all the blood. Whatever the case, Matarl knew what this room was for. It was a place that almost every sadist and lunatic worth his salt kept.

_A torture chamber...she's going to bleed me to death._

Chains, hooks and blood stained cleavers hung from a rusty rack on one wall while spiked poles leaned ominously on the opposite side. Then there were the cages, iron maidens and contraptions so bizarre that they defied description but were definitely made to inflict horrendous amounts of pain.

Matarl started his muffled whimpering again as his captor dragged him deeper into the house of horrors. Somewhere along the way, the Twi'lek had soiled himself, and a large stain had appeared at the front of his pants. Mysteel gave him a disgusted look.

"I haven't even done anything and you're already braying like a mongrel bitch. Well save it until I actually start cutting things off,"

She hauled Matarl onto the large metal torture rack that dominated the center of the chamber, a table caked with so much blood that dried chunks of it fell off as the Twi'lek shoved the rotting corpse off its surface. Mysteel then hauled his prisoner on top and started to secure him to the table but Matarl didn't make it easy. He thrashed and kicked his legs at her, hurling gibbering threats. Angry at his continued resistance, Mysteel cracked him across the head with the hilt of her lightsaber and her prisoner finally fell limp.

"That's better,"

As he lay in a half dazed stupor, Mysteel began to tie Matarl limbs methodically to each post on the rack. She secured the restraints so that Matarl was splayed out in an X position. Then the female used a winch to pull the ropes even tighter, to the point where each limb was taut as a bowstring.

Matarl moaned, partly in pain but mostly in fear as he felt his muscles screaming in protest. But his bloodshot eyes bulged even wider when he saw Mysteel approach his left hand with a pair of rusty looking wire cutters. Slowly, she unclenched his sinewy fingers and stuck his thumb between the jaws of her contraption.

As Matarl started hyperventilating into his blood stained wad of cloth, Mysteel gave him a cold smile.

"Now...Let's get started"

_Mmmppphh...__MpppPPHHH!_

Before Mysteel could really start doing some damage, he fainted. Mysteel stared at her victim with a mixture of disbelief and outrage.

"No, no, no, no, no, no! Wake up, _wake__up_damn you!"

She spent several furious seconds trying to revive her prisoner, slapping him, splashing cold water and hurling obscenities but to no effect. Screaming in fury at the injustice, Mysteel finally gave up and snatched her killing knife instead.

"Fine! If I can't hear you scream, then I can damn well see you die!"

The Twi'lek grabbed the hilt of the dagger with both hands and poised it over Matarl's chest like someone preparing to offer a sacrifice to some dark god. She lowered the blade until it touched Matarl's skin, took a deep breathe and said.

"This is for mother,"

* * *

The sound of screaming woke Revan up with a chill in his heart. It was a distant sound, but somehow it had reverberated within the fibre of his being. At first he didn't recognize it, but as his sluggish mind took more time to process the information, the Jedi realized what had jolted him out of unconsciousness.

_Mysteel...she is close by._

Revan didn't know why she had screamed but knew that the reason could not be anything good. He needed to reach her and hopefully stop the crazed female before she did something she couldn't take back. Spurred by that thought, the Jedi looked around and realized the statue he was lying under was completely surrounded by rock, courtesy of his impromptu decision to collapse the ceiling. Revan could make out faint cracks of light among the debris though, so the debris field couldn't have been that deep.

He spent several minutes pushing the larger boulders away and dragging himself out from his makeshift prison. It was a slow and agonizing process, mostly because every movement triggered a spasm of pain in his muscles. His ribs were definitely broken, although how many was hard to say. Maybe all of them. Breathing was painful, especially from the right part of his chest and it felt like someone was still pounding nails into him.

Dropping rocks over oneself was probably not the smartest idea in retrospect. But all in all, his injuries were minor compared to the devastation he unleashed upon Malleus. Revan didn't know how many kilo-tonnes of rock had crushed his opponent, but the Jedi was confident that Malleus was no more than a bloody morass of pulpy flesh and cracked bone now.

Eventually Revan managed to throw aside the last blockade and emerge from his claustrophobic space. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the exit was left untouched...which could not be said for the room itself. The entire chamber was ruined, its structures no more than a midden junk heap of fractured masonry and fine powder. The ceiling itself had been replaced by a few stray cables and a yawning chasm that seemed to stretch on forever into the night. Revan shook his head. Now was not the time for sight seeing. He began picking his way gingerly across the debris field, careful not to knock any of the rocks loose.

_Force, please don't let it be too la-_

Revan was so focused on his descent that he was caught completely caught by surprise when a mangled hand exploded from the tall pile of rubble to his right and grabbed his neck. The Jedi choked in surprise and tried to twist away, but the grip was unrelenting. Cold bony digits constricted around his throat into an unbreakable vice. Once he had purchase, Malleus emerged from the rest of the debris and slithered behind him, caked head to toe in a fine white dust. The Renatus began choking his prisoner to death.

"It seems..." Malleus hissed into his ear. "I am the stronger of us two after all."

"Grrhkkk...!"

Revan tried to cry out but found that his airways had been clamped shut. He could only gurgle feebly as the tremendous pressure continued building in the back of his neck.

"It was good to see you again brother..." the Renatus husked, clenching tighter "even if it was only a pale shade of your former glory. Take heart, even as you die again. I will punish the Order for you,"

His victim was too busy choking to death to reply. Revan knew he couldn't break the hold. In a few seconds, he was going to die, strangled at the hands of Ajunta Pall's monstrous creation. Unless...

As Malleus was draining the last moments of consciousness from him, his right hand spasmed towards the side of his robes. Groping helplessly for a few moments, the Jedi's trembling fingers eventually unlocked a tiny metal casing and wrapped around the one thing that could possibly help him. It was a minuscule hope of salvation. But after his fight with Victus, the Jedi knew that if he ever crossed paths with the his kind again, he would need some weapon to counteract the Reborn's legendary constitution. That was why he brought the contingency, why he stolen that item from Lucidae's labs...

Revan tried to speak but only succeeded in made a high wheezing sound. Malleus loosened his grip ever so slightly to hear his last words.

"Louder brother," said Malleus cruelly "if you want to beg for your life, say it louder."

"Grhhk...maybe.." said Revan between choked gasps "...maybe you are stronger. But... you...grhhh...you should know..."

"Yes, but what?" his captor hissed.

"...I _cheat_."

In one smooth motion, Revan uncapped the needle he had liberated and rammed it backwards, straight into Malleus' eye and emptied its contents. The _Renatus_ reeled back in surprise, clutching the offending object. The Jedi took this chance to slither out of the chokehold and away from Malleus' grasping hands.

As he backed away, he heard Malleus _scream._Not in pain, but in horror.

Turning around, Revan saw that the _Renatus_ was on his knees, grasping his head like it was about to explode. Which by the looks of it, wasn't all that far off the mark. His veins stuck out like iron chords while what looked like dozens of dark wriggling worms wriggled violently underneath his face. When Malleus did stop screaming, he vomited out a black ichor which hissed and spit as it came in contact to the floor.

"What...what is..." gurgled Malleus before the lower part of his jaw fell away. The _Renatus_' bloody eye sockets fixed it's baleful stare at the Jedi who had inflicted this blight upon him.

"I know that the _Praeconor __Oblivio_ wasn't designed as a weapon..." said Revan gasped, clutching his mangled neck "It was made to change...to breathe new life into a person. So...I hope you can appreciate the irony of your death, _brother_,"

Malleus didn't or couldn't reply. His body suddenly found itself raging a furious war as deadly nano probes breached his cell walls and began unravelling the DNA structure of the _Renatus_' enhanced genome. In a matter of moments, the painstakingly complex patterns that Ajunta Pall had woven into Malleus' genetic structure were turned into useless proteins. Antibodies, and blood cells pumped furiously into his bloodstream to counteract the attack but the _Praeconor __Oblivio_ was relentless. The malignant substance was replicating faster than they could produce and soon, it had eaten the last vestiges of Malleus' defences.

What was left of the _Renatus_ decrepit body began to decay rapidly. It was like watching a video of a carcass left out in the sun in fast forward. His palsied skin turned black with contagion before sloughing off and revealing the bone beneath. Red veined eyeballs bulged out like an insect's before exploding in a viscera of mucus fluid. And when Malleus opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was a gurgle as thin as a reed along with the buzzing of millions of black flies.

Revan bore silent witness to the death of the Corrupter, his link to a distant forgotten age. The Jedi was surprised to find he _did_ feel pity for Malleus. To have existed for so long, nursing such hate for the Republic and being on the cusp of his revenge only to have it stripped away at the last moment. To have all the foresight of the future yet be unable to see his own demise...there was a delicious irony to that.

Malleus reached out with a melting hand but Revan couldn't tell his intent. Was he reaching out for forgiveness or to hand out one last curse to his killer? The Jedi would never know as the thing that had been Malleus finally collapsed and congealed into a puddle of black viscous fluid.

Revan turned away and left the room, never looking back.

* * *

The purge within the fortress was slow but complete. Room after room was scoured by one of the three kill teams, each commander making doubly sure that none of the Abominations or mercenaries escaped their wrath. Sporadic gunfights broke out with elements of Malleus' remaining forces but these were token exchanges, the last vestiges of resistance from a cornered enemy with nowhere to run.

Many of the mercenaries threw down their weapons in the hopes that the invaders would show them mercy. That proved to be a grievous error, as all of the men were brutally gunned down, whether they surrendered or not. The few Abominations and Aspirants remaining were also wipe from existence in a similarly brutal fashion, Nobody amongst the Widowmakers, droids or Mandalorians even considered letting any of these bastards leave this planet. No, once one was touched by Malleus' influence, they had to be cleansed from existence to avoid the spread of the Reborn's virulent corruption.

The executions were only a diversion however, for Aethon's ultimate goal was still locating and securing the weapon that Lucidae had sent them to recover. The kill teams had searched the breadth and width of each hall, hoping to find something which would indicate a storage unit or a lab that the weapon might be held in.

Their search efforts were all in vain, until Octavia's kill team breached one of rooms in the lowest level of the fortress. None of the droids had the cognitive ability to register surprise at their discovery but it certainly took them many more clock cycles to process the visual information of what they recorded.

When Octavia saw what was in the lab, the machine did an approximation of a double take before issuing a command to one of his few organic subordinates.

"Send word to the Lord Commander," ordered the machine.

"He's been out of contact for the past twenty minutes. It might be the interference from the walls or his comm system is damaged." replied the soldier.

"Then _find_ him," grated Octavia in a low menacing tone. "The upstart will want to see this."

* * *

The Jedi didn't have to look far in his search for the wayward Twi'lek. No sooner had he turned a corner into an unfamiliar hallway that Revan noticed large puddles of blackened blood running down its length, accompanied by the faint outlines of footsteps amongst the dust. The pools were smeared close together which told Revan that there was at least one person wounded and was probably being dragged by someone else. The sheer amount told him that the victim was bleeding profusely. He also caught the faintest whiff of Mysteel's scent, something he had unconsciously come to recognize after traveling extensively with her.

Revan began moving in the direction that the spatter pattern indicated, hoping the trail was still fresh enough for him to catch Mysteel. He didn't have to search long. The blood smear brought him to a large chamber filled with row upon row of empty cages, similar to the one with the Abominations, but apparently designed for actual prisoners. And there was only one exit from the room, which the blood trail had made a beeline for. The Jedi walked straight down its length to the metal door and turned the knob. It didn't budge.

_Locked._

Not wasting time with finesse, the Jedi sundered the locking mechanism with a savage kick and shouldered in before the wood splinters even had time to settle. And when he stepped into the chamber, Revan found himself standing in front of a very unsettling scene.

_By all that is sacred..._

Skulls, carcasses and implements of torture hung from all three corners, leering down at him tauntingly. A half naked Twi'lek...the one that Kynes had called Matarl was splayed on a torture rack, his limbs tied taught to all four corners. The thing was unconscious but alive, shallow breaths heaving in and out of his ragged chest. Standing next to him was Mysteel. She stood as still as a statue, clutching a dagger that hovered dangerously over her victim's pallid skin. The female had a glazed, tortured look on her face, as if she was struggling to justify what she was prepared to do. Revan attempted to make sure she never did.

"Mysteel," he said urgently. "Put the weapon down."

The Twi'lek did not immediately respond to him. Her tear streaked face was focused on one thing and one thing only.

"This is him Rev. This is the bastard that killed Arctet and helped cripple my sister" Mysteel trembled with fury as she said the words, her blue eyes filled with anguish.

"This is the piece of filth that took my mother away from me. Th-the best mother in the entire galaxy" The Twi'lek's voice began to rise with an unstable timbre. Revan could see that she was close snapping at any moment now.

"I am sorry for your loss, but we can talk about this," Revan croaked in a louder voice, hoping to break the Twi'lek out of her dangerous trance. "Please...think about what you're doing."

_"I __know __what __I'm __doing __dammit!"_Mysteel shrieked suddenly. _"I __know __he __doesn't __deserve __to __live!"_ She raised her dagger and prepared to ram it into the Twi'lek's chest.

"Don't!" snarled Revan. He took two slow steps towards the pair.

"Stay back!" Mysteel shouted. The female scrambled behind Matarl's head and put him in a chokehold. Her weapon came to rest at her victim's neck.

Revan stopped his approach and held both arms to either side unthreateningly. "The battle is over Mysteel," the Jedi tried to inject a measure of calmness into his voice.

"Malleus is dead. You're mother is avenged. Please, put the weapon down."

"No! Its not! Not until _he's_ _dead_!"

Mysteel's eyes were wild with fury, her normally beautiful features twisted into something demonic. Revan hesitated. He knew that two things hung in the balance now. Matarl's life and Mysteel's soul. One wrong word, one stray step and both would be snuffed out irreparably.

"If you strike this man down now..." said Revan slowly. "It would be murder. And that is what Malleus wants. He told me before he died that you were Lucidae's pride and joy, that you were the best that he had to offer. And once he managed to tear you from grace, his revenge against Lucidae would be complete."

Revan locked Mysteel with his dark piercing eyes.

"Do not give him the satisfaction."

Mysteel was not swayed so easily.

"Do you know how many innocent people have suffered because of this monster? How many graveyards he's filled ?" Mysteel didn't wait for an answer, her expression half crazed.

"Of course you don't!" she snapped. "That's why I'm going to cut his deranged head from his body!" To prove her point she pressed her dagger harder, drawing a thin spurt of dark blood.

The Jedi flinched at the violent display but decided moving would only provoke the Twi'lek. No, he would need words to persuade her to stop this madness.

"Mysteel, you know as well as I do that killing an unarmed individual, no matter how grievous a crime without due process is murder." Revan insisted through gritted teeth. "I know you don't want to be a murderer."

"How? _How_ can you say that?" she hissed, tears welling up from her sapphire eyes. "Don't you see what I'm doing? I'm ending his misbegotten life once and for all. When I kill him, he can't hurt anyone anymore."

Then Mysteel started to cry in earnest, her shuddering sobs shaking her entire body.

"He...he couldn't hurt me anymore."

Revan didn't know what to say at that point. What could he possibly say that would make her understand?

_Think...what would you do in her situation...How can I fix this?_

And then Revan knew.

In a moment of clarity, the Jedi came to understand why he had been sent those dreams. It was a warning...a warning for him to remember just what it meant to be a true to oneself. Of the incredible moral burden a Jedi Knight had to endure, especially during these darkest of times. It was a lesson he had learned so he would know what to say in order to save the tortured soul in front of him. At that moment, Revan knew what he had to do.

"I remember a time when I was in the same position as you." He began slowly "It was during my final trial to become a Jedi Knight. I was sent to kill a man, a man that had committed untold atrocities, unspeakable vile evil against the Republic. But there was a catch...When I finally got a chance to end his life, this man was already half dead and defenceless. And worse, he had binded another person to his psyche. An innocent bystander so to speak. If I tried to end his miserable life, I would be killing his victim as well.

But that was the real test you see, to measure my devotions to the Council's orders. They wanted to see if my loyalty to them was absolute, and whether I was willing to sully my honor and sacrifice an innocent life to complete the mission."

Mysteel just stared at him then with her tear stained eyes before asking.

"What did you do?"

Revan hesitated and said.

"That is not important. What I'm trying to tell is at some point, there comes a time in everybody's lives when we are all _tested_, where they have to power to take control of our destinies and show the galaxy who we really are. And this is your time Mysteel. Everything that has happened has led up to this point where you have to _choose_. To follow the Jedi code that Lucidae nurtured in you or succumb to your baser desires."

He took two steps forward but Mysteel flinched back, raising the dagger threateningly against her victim's neck. Revan stopped and said softly.

"I know in your heart of hearts, you know what the right answer for you is. And if you fail to heed your conscience... you will regret it for the rest of your life."

Mysteel continued to shake her head violently.

"You don't know..." she sobbed. You don't know what it means to have your whole life just taken away from you. To have everything you hold dear torn away."

_"I__do!"_ Snarled Revan. He clutched his hands together into fists, his whole body trembling.

"I know the feeling of losing a life better than anyone. _Anyone_."

The vehemence in his voice startled Mysteel. She stared at him, lowering her weapon ever so slightly.

"Wh-what do you mean?" She asked haltingly. Revan stiffened. He had wanted to avoid this topic. To keep it buried deep in the recesses of his mind along with all his other shame. Because to confront what he had learned would mean...

_If I say it, then everything I ever held dear will crumble to dust..._

Revan couldn't go there. He didn't want to let go of his memories...the vision of the girl that he cherished above all others. But in the end, the Jedi decided to tell the truth. Because truth was all he had now...

"You once asked me..," said Revan softly. "What I had lost. And how I could possibly understand your pain. Well, not so long before I met you, I discovered everything I knew was a lie. For you see...Revan isn't even my real name."

"What?" Mysteel asked, her face going from anger to confusion. "Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I doubt that I ever knew...all my memories, my personality...they were all fabricated so I could be become someone else. Someone that the Council to use as they see fit. Do you know what I'm telling you Mysteel? They took away my life."

Mysteel's mouth had dropped open in silent horror.

"Why...why would they do such a thing?"

"The Jedi was on the verge of collapse after the civil war. And they could not afford for their most promising recruits to stray from their path. So they wiped away my memory, conditioned me to be the perfect slave. Unquestioning, unflinching in duty. Everything that I was...or would have been, erased...all in the name of the Republic."

New tears streaked down Mysteel face then, not for herself, but for him. Revan continued in a dead tone.

"When I discovered the truth, I wanted to do the wrong thing so badly. I wanted to turn my back on the Republic and damn the consequences. But I didn't."

"Why?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Revan remembered the words that Exon had told him. It gave him strength.

"Because...I knew...I knew that even though I wanted to take revenge...that wasn't who I was. Deep down, I knew that shade of the original person that I was, the person that I should have been wouldn't have wanted me to succumb. So I stayed loyal...and for that, I was expunged from the Order to the edges of the galaxy with the knowledge of my shame."

Revan laughed bitterly at the irony.

"You're probably thinking that I regret my decision. Well, I would be lying if I said that I didn't. That choosing...it was one of the hardest choice I had to make and it probably wasn't even the smartest one. But it was the _right_ one. It didn't seem like it at the time, but it was. One must always stay true to themselves in the face of adversity. Some things are beyond our control Mysteel, like your mother's death. Maybe that is fate...but I know without a shadow of a doubt that there are some things that you _can_ control. And when that time comes when you do have to choose, you need to be ready...to look at yourself with perfect clarity and ask... _'Are __you __doing __the __right __thing?'_

After that, an agonizing silence descended upon the room. The Twi'lek's soul became even more torn at what she wanted and what she was supposed to do. Revan watched with bated breath as Mysteel looked alternatively between him, Matarl and her weapon. The tension seemed to drag on for an eternity. Then suddenly, Mysteel raised her dagger...

_No!_

Revan could only stare in horror as he saw the blade _thunk_ down onto the torture rack...

...and embedded itself deep into the wood, several millimetres away from Matarl's neck.

Her victim remained unharmed.

The Twi'lek let go of the weapon, collapsed to the floor and hugged her knees, shuddering in revulsion at the heinous crime she had just been on the verge to commit.

Revan let out a weary sigh of relief.

He staggered the rest of the way to her sobbing form and knelt down to put a hand on her shoulder. Mysteel flung herself against the Jedi with desperate strength, crying all the while.

"It's over..." Said Revan softly. He gave Mysteel a gentle pat on the back.

"I'm proud of you."

Mysteel didn't respond except to continue her shuddering sobs.


	40. Chapter 40 The Rescue Finale

_I've got a bad feeling about this_

_-common adage_

* * *

It took a few more minutes of crying silently into his shoulder before Mysteel composed herself. When she stood up, Revan handed the Twi'lek a small cloth from his belt which she took gratefully to wipe the grime from her tearful face.

"I-I think I'm not crazy anymore," Mysteel murmured, dabbing her cheeks. She gave Revan an embarrassed look as she handed him back the cloth. "Sorry Rev, I guess I take more after my sister than I thought,"

The Jedi smiled at her feeble attempt at a joke. It wasn't funny, but at least she tried. Before he could decide what to with the prisoner, the sound of steel tipped boots caught his attention. His first instinct was to go for his lightsaber until he remembered with a curse that it was still lost under a hundred tonnes of rubble. However, the Jedi relaxed fractionally when the newcomers turned out not to be enemies but members of Aethon's kill teams. Octavia's if the markings on their plate were any indication.

The pair entered the torture room cautiously, weapons primed but pointed to the floor.

"Lord Commander, are you two all right?" said the one to the right.

"We're fine."

"Good, we..." The man trailed off momentarily when he noticed Matarl.

"Mysteel and I found him tied up to this torture rack." Lied Revan. He decided nobody needed to know about Mysteel's psychotic episode. "Once his usefulness ran out, the Reborn probably left the fiend here to rot. We were about to secure him back as a prisoner,"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mysteel exhale ever so slightly. The soldiers also relaxed fractionally at the news.

"We lost contact with your receiver..." said the other. Revan unconsciously touched his earpiece, which was no longer even broadcasting static.

"It must have been damaged during my fight with Malleus." the Jedi replied offhandedly.

"Malleus?" echoed the soldiers worriedly. "Is he...?"

"Dead," Revan assured them, which drew out a sigh of relief from the pair.

"We'll be sure the pass the word down Lord,"

"Don't call me Lord." said Revan tersely "What is the status of the other teams?"

"Mandalore reports that they have covered approximately eighty percent of the complex." Replied the first soldier. "Resistance is light on the remaining ones, and so far no one has been killed. Kynes is still scouring the lower habitats. She reported finding a large slave pen ten minutes ago and is getting the medics to treat them."

"And the weapon? Has it been located?"

"Yes...as a matter of fact, Commander Octavia sent me to find you personally about this issue."

"Excellent. Are all the capsules accounted for?"

"We haven't done an inventory yet." The soldiers looked at each other uncertainly. "There's...there was something else we found there."

Both of them threw Mysteel a glance and looked at each other uncomfortably. Revan just stared at them until one summoned the courage to speak up. "It's the girl. We found her."

Mysteel perked up immediately at the news. "My sister?" she asked anxiously. "Where is she? Is she all right?"

They shook their heads.

"Sorry ma'am, but it...it doesn't look good for her. Before we left, she was hooked up to one of Malleus' contraptions doing Force knows what to her. I'm not a medic, but even I could tell she was extremely ill."

Mysteel looked like she had just been punched in the gut. "Oh force no. _Please__no_!" she croaked. The Twi'lek turned around and grabbed Revan by the shoulder, shaking him hysterically.

"Rev! I have to find her. I have to make sure she's okay!"

The Jedi grimaced at the contact as every tremor sent spikes of pain through his back.

"I agree, stop shaking." Revan said fending her off before turning back to the soldiers. "Where is she?"

"Do you know where the dining hall is...or at least where it used to be?" Asked the soldier to his left. Revan nodded.

"I should hope so. I was responsible for redecorating it,"

"Go back there and through the opposite exit. Then keep walking till you reach the end of the hallway. Octavia will be in the first door to the left along with the rest of his team."

Mysteel was out of the room before the messenger even finished his sentence. Then she popped her head back in and said. "Hurry up!" Revan began to follow, albeit much more slowly before turning around and adding.

"Get this bastard secured"

"Of course Lord Commander," Both soldiers saluted.

The Jedi threw them a nod and walked out of the room.

* * *

Revan's injuries had forced him to adopt a hobbling gait, which made the trip back to the dining hall seem that much longer. Mysteel didn't help much, prodding him urgently with barely restrained impatience much like a slave driver would prod a beast of burden.

"Come on Rev, we don't have all day!" she said in a harried tone when the Jedi began to lag back. Revan shot her a nasty look.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little busy right now bleeding to death," Looking guilty, the Twi'lek slowed down her pace, but only slightly.

After several arduous minutes, the pair eventually came into the room the messengers had specified. And when they did, both Revan and Mysteel's jaws dropped.

The first thing that the Jedi noticed was the smell of counter sceptic saturating the air like a pungent perfume, along with the faint mechanical whirs and clicks of hidden machinery operating in the background. Next he saw the tables...row after row of tables, aligned in a precise four by eight grid. Many of the them were attached to a heart monitor and UV drips along with other medical equipment. As Revan walked closer, he could see each table contained what appeared to be a shrivelled husk of meat. Upon even closer scrutiny, he saw that they resembled humanoid babies, although the term was applied loosely to say the least. In truth, they were freakish horrors, twisted and moulded from their original form to a macabre parody of their species. Dozens of needles and tubes stuck out profanely from their clammy flesh like fetishes. The wires pooled down to a nest of cables which slithered down across the cold hard floor like metal worms.

Mysteel put a hand over her mouth to cover her horrified expression.

"Force, how could Malleus do this to all these poor children?"

Revan was equally perturbed although he did a better job of masking his discomfort. The Jedi had expected to walk into something sinister within Malleus sanctum the moment he set foot on this wretched planet. He just didn't think it would be _this_ disturbing. Revan surmised this was some sort of laboratory, and these children were Malleus' test subjects.

_But__subjects__for__what?_ Revan didn't think he wanted to know.

Most of the soldiers, along with their massive leader were huddled in the centre of the laboratory, looking at something. Two others appeared to be running a diagnostic on the capsules lining the side of the walls. Revan recognized the malignant substance within as the _Praeconor__Oblivio_, and that many of the cables he saw earlier were syphoning it back to the test subjects.

At the sound of footsteps, Octavia turned around and addressed the Jedi in his metallic drawl.

"Lord Commander. I believe you would want to see this." The massive droid stepped to one side and revealed another child strapped to the operating tables. But this was no ordinary patient...this was...

"Sister!" Mysteel shrieked, rushing up to the child's sickly form. The Twi'lek knelt to one knee and a hugged the child, as much as her awkward position would allow.

"Force, your skin...it's so hot and clammy." she murmured. "What have they done to you?"

"We found her like this." Octavia commented with all the concern of a medical droid, which was to say, none at all.

"The droids were performing some sort biopsy on the girl when we entered. I made sure they had an accident." the machine pointed to a steaming pile of twisted metal that lay scattered across the floor.

"Why didn't you free her?" said Mysteel accusingly, whipping her head back to glare at the psychotic killing machine. Octavia shrugged and turned towards the plethora of medical equipment that served as the patient's life support and torture device.

"I would have, except some of my fleshier subordinates feared that detaching her from the device would only exacerbate her situation. Did you want me to shoot them for cowardice?"

Some of Octavia's men shuffled uncomfortably at the question.

"That was a joke. In case you haven't noticed, your 'sister's' blood pressure and heart rate is significantly elevated and she is running a fever so they might have a point."

Octavia pointed to the assortment of monitors attached to the end of the operating table.

"And do you know the cause of her symptoms?" Revan stepped up to the girl and inspected her condition. The child was deathly pale, her aqua sheen almost translucent. The blood veins underneath were milky with dark puss. Looking at her now, the Jedi was uncomfortably aware of the similarities she had with her captors.

"Yes. Imaging scans have shown a foreign mass that is consistent with the size and dimensional properties of the type three _Mallephagea_ implant. However, this parasite has been changed from the baseline structure. My hypothesis is that the mutation stems from the _Praeconor__Oblivio_, which is also present in her bloodstream-."

"Wait, wait!" Mysteel sputtered, looking like she was going to be sick. "Y-your saying she's been infected with one of those...those parasites!"

"I just said that, didn't I?" snapped Octavia tersely, completely oblivious to her hysterical tone. "To be precise, it has attached itself onto the atrial and ventricle sections of her heart. And right now, it is releasing chemicals that are subverting her baseline genetic structure."

"Show me," said Revan.

The droid walked over to the table interfaced with the its medical support system. A moment later, one of the monitors hummed to life and displayed a surprisingly detailed image of the patient's heart. It was wrapped with something that resembled a black octopus, its tentacles dig firmly into various parts of the organ's surface. Revan recognized the black cancerous mass as one of the specimen types that Lucidae had showed him in his own gene labs. When Mysteel saw the image, she let out a plethora of curses which would have given Ava a run for her money.

"Matarl, you sick fuck." she hissed. "I knew you were twisted, but even I didn't think you were capable of _this_,"

"Yes, if only someone had killed him when they had the chance." said Octavia sarcastically. "But as I was saying, the presence of the Praeconor Oblivio in her bloodstream seems to suggest that the Reborn was experimenting with an alternate method of implantation, one that does not result in such a high risk of degeneration seen so frequently in his Abominations."

"So, all these children in this room are test tubes." said Revan grimly. "Used to determine which modified implant yields the best result."

"Precisely," said Octavia, nodding in approval at his logic "However, the child's body temperature and heart rate has been steadily rising since we found her, indicating severe physical and mental stress. We believe her body is rejecting the modified implantation process and the chemicals the _Mallephagea_ is injecting into her bloodstream have become toxic. Given enough time, it will kill her."

Mysteel's eyes widened in horror.

"H-How long does my sister have?" she demanded, wiping the sweat pouring from the child's forehead. Octavia looked amused at the question.

"I have not collected enough statistical data on your species' anatomy to make a precise assessment. But as a conjecture, I would say 'not long',"

"Dammit!" Mysteel hissed, banging her fist in frustration. "Where are the medics?"

Again, Octavia shrugged his massive armoured shoulders.

"They are busy assisting with the rescue effort several levels above us. Waiting for their arrival is not recommended since they are field medics, not heart surgeons."

For a moment, the Twi'lek looked like she could strangle the flippant machine before twisting back to the child, her expression twisted in turmoil and indecision. Suddenly, she turned around and looked at Revan.

"Rev, we can't let my poor sister suffer like this." She cried, "You have to do something before the parasite kills her!"

"Me?" echoed Revan perplexed, "What do you think I could do that you're not doing already?"

"I-I don't know." admitted Mysteel "But you've always got a plan right? Please, think of something."

Revan hesitated. Helping her was all well and good but while his knowledge encapsulated most humanoid anatomies and useful medical agents, he had not trained extensively to perform any sort of field surgery. Especially nothing as complicated as operating on an alien heart. Yet he couldn't just stand idly by while Thalia's daughter slowly withered away before his eyes.

_The __Mallephagea ,__it __needs __to __come __out._Revan thought grimly._But_ _If __I __open __her __chest __and __try __to __cut __out __the __parasite ,__she'll __likely __die __on __the __table...Unless..._

At that moment, he was struck with inspiration. It was an unorthodox plan...but the girl was running out of time and options. And the plan might just be crazy enough to work.

Revan stepped besides Mysteel and began peeling off his gloves.

"Octavia, I want you to zoom in on the left coronary artery. Focus on the parasite's points of entry, where they are puncturing the valve walls."

"S-so you _do_ have a plan?" asked Mysteel hopefully.

"Yes, I'm going to remove the damn thing that's killing her." said Revan, rolling back his sleeves. "We know it is injecting poison into the child's bloodstream. If we get rid of the source, hopefully her condition will stabilize."

"I would not recommend that Lord Commander," warned Octavia. "Preliminary studies of these bioforms suggests once the parasite has matured and is fully attached to the host, the bond is permanent. Forcibly removing the _Mallephagea_ could result in system shock,"

"Then I will have to be precise." said Revan grimly. "Remove one tendril at a time."

Nobody looked especially happy at his plan, especially Mysteel.

"Rev, I don't know about this..." she said hesitantly. "We don't know how much strain her heart has already. She might not survive the process."

"A minute ago, you were saying that I had to do something to help her." Revan said tersely. "This is something...unless you have a better idea?"

Mysteel hesitated, so Revan softened his voice and said,

"Either it comes out now and we risk death, or we leave it in and guarantee death. That's not really a decision."

The Twi'lek looked alternatively between her sister and the Jedi for several seconds.

"...Okay." she whispered eventually. "Okay."

Revan turned to Octavia and gave him a silent nod. Octavia adjusted a few dials on the console which brought up a closeup to where coronary artery was located. The Jedi stared a the image, visualizing where the tendril actually was in relation to his position. When he was sure he knew exactly where it was, the Jedi took a deep breath and held out his hands over the Twi'lek's chest. Everyone stared at him in confusion.

Revan began moving his fingers dextrously in mid air, like he was manipulating a lock that only he could see. To everyone's surprise, the parasite's limbs started shifting, away from the coronary artery, like it was being tugged by some unseen miniature hand.

"What the...how is he doing that?" asked one of the soldiers.

"Interesting." Observed Octavia. "The Jedi is employing a form of telekinesis to force the tendrils out of the heart. I did not think that the Force could be employed in such a manner."

Octavia was right. Most Jedi and Sith did not have the discipline to focus their abilities in such a focused fashion. That was why many bystanders equated the Force to a blunt instrument. Whether it was using it to hurl a man through the air or invoke angry lashes of lightning, very few people had seen how subtly it could be employed. And what the Jedi was doing was definitely subtle. The Jedi had to manipulate objects at a microscopic level, shifting the heart and tentacles so that they didn't cause friction when the latter was pulled out. The process was painstakingly detailed and required every ounce of the Jedi's formidable discipline. But even with his extensive training in that area, Revan found the task arduous, especially with his extensive injuries.

"Come on...come on." he said through gritted teeth, curling his fingers in subtle motions.

With agonizing slowness, the tiny appendage was drawn from its sheath, until it was completely liberated from the coronary artery. As it popped out, the child shuddered and gave a whimper of pain. Mysteel gasped, covering her mouth as tears welled out of her eyes. The monitor showing the patient's heart rate suddenly began beeping with accelerated frequency.

"Pulse spiking..." Octavia reported. "No wait, it's going down. Steady at 115."

The droid turned back to the Jedi. "I think the parasite was agitated by your ministrations Lord Commander. You need to be more careful."

Revan was too busy to reply. He was already trying to will the second tentacle out of the aorta. Sweat beaded down his head as he gently willed the parasite to loosen it's grip with invisible tugs. The Jedi had extracted perhaps a centimetre when he felt a subtle resistance. Revan hesitated and tried it again but the tentacle wouldn't budge. The child whimpered as she felt the increased strain against her heart. Mysteel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Oh honey, I know it hurts." she murmured, kissing the girl on the forehead. "But please, be strong."

"Heart rate is going up again." said Octavia somewhat unnecessarily since everyone could hear the increased frequency of beeps.

"Dammit." whispered Revan, loosening his invisible grip on the Mallephagea. The vile thing must have dug in it's claws deeper than he expected. If he tried tugging it more forcibly, he would risk ripping the valve wall and end up causing system shock...most likely death. Revan wiped his forehead and took a step back from the table. Everyone turned to look at him with concern except Octavia, who looked more interested at inspecting the bloodstains on the floor.

"What wrong Rev?" asked Mysteel worriedly "Why did you stop?"

"The parasite has its flesh hooks too deep...if I force the issue, it might damage the tissue irreparably."

The Jedi considered his options before turning back to the Twi'lek.

"Okay...Mysteel, I'm going to need your help."

She nodded uncertainly. The Jedi pointed to the view screen.

"You see that left tendril that's gouged into the aorta?"

"The…the what?"

"The big red thing with three adjoining valves." Said Revan impatiently.

She nodded. "Yeah…yeah I think so."

"Can you send a tiny energy burst through that location? Like you were trying to zap a rodent?"

"Y-you want me to zap my little sister? And did you just compare my sister to a rodent?"

"Just a little. Enough to shock the parasite into loosening it's grip."

"I-I don't know if I can do that..." said Mysteel uncertainly.

"Would you rather have Octavia try to taser her with one of his instruments?" The Twi'lek looked aghast at the suggestion and shook her head emphatically. "Then do it."

"Okay, okay." she muttered "With what? Paddles?"

"No, too strong. Use the Force. Imagine this is a training exercise. Have you ever practiced lighting a candle by manipulating ions in the air, changing energy levels to create a chemical discharge?"

"Well sure...when I was bored..."

"Good enough. Visualize the space in your sister's chest where the _Mallephagea_ resides, using the imager as a planar reference. Concentrate on that area then summon a small electric pulse, just a small one that passes through the parasite's body. Do you understand?"

Mysteel nodded apprehensively. She extended her index finger, and placed it lightly on the child's chest. The Twi'lek looked at the imager and adjusted her hand until she was sure that she was right on top of the parasite. Then she looked back at the Jedi for confirmation.

"All right, do it."

Taking a deep breath, the Twi'lek tapped her sister's skin lightly and the child twitched ever so slightly as the jolt of energy ran through her chest. Everyone heard a tiny whine, like something in pain, but the noise seemed unnatural and didn't come from the child's mouth,

"Did it work?" asked Mysteel nervously.

"Yes." said Revan, nodding in approval "I can feel the parasite's grip weakening. Good job."

He began gently tugging at the Mallephagea again, extracting the tendril out millimetre by excruciating millimetre with very minute gestures. After several tense seconds, it came free from the aorta. There was a collective sigh of relief from the living members of the room. Revan took a moment to exhale himself and wipe the bloody perspiration from his brow before focusing on the tendrils wrapped on the left pulmonary artery. Luckily, these two tendrils were much smaller and proved to be much less resistant to his gentle prodding. Revan deftly manipulated his fingers in order to contort the tentacles out of the heart wall like he was working a puzzle.

The next one was attached to the superior vena cava which was trickier. Each time Revan thought he had a firm grip on the tentacle, the thing would quickly burrow back into the muscle. The Jedi cursed inwardly after several fruitless attempts.

"Okay...give it another spark. Over there, near the right atrium."

The Twi'lek complied, although she looked understandably reluctant to subject the child to any more duress. As the jolt went through her tiny body, the _Mallephagea_ shuddered, giving Revan the opportunity to twist the tendril out with a quick corkscrew motion before it could latch onto the heart valve again. When it came free, the Jedi closed his eyes to blink away the stinging sweat that had poured down his brow, his own chest fluttering as he passed another milestone. This was almost as taxing on him as it was on the child.

_Okay..five down...five to go._

"Lord Commander, you may wish to accelerate this process," said Octavia suddenly, interrupting his short break.

Revan opened his eyes and turned to his massive counterpart. "Why?"

"The monitor shows irregularities in the subject's heart rhythm." replied the droid, pointing to another monitor the little girl was hooked up to. Revan frowned at this development.

"Arrhythmia?"

"Correct. The parasite's toxins combined with the little electrical impulses are compromising her heart functions. I do not believe she can take much more of your 'treatment' before the damage is permanent."

Permanent? Echoed Mysteel, growing several shades paler.

The Jedi pinched his nose. He knew something like this was likely going to happen. One couldn't play with someone else' vital organs without expecting some kind of repercussion.

"I'll try to be careful. In the meantime, someone find me a defibrillator, just in case. There must be one around here. And go through the medical drawers. Bring me any bottle that's labeled, some sterile needles and a pair of surgical gloves."

Two of the soldiers saluted and went to rummage around the laboratory, leaving the Jedi to work in peace. One tendril came out slowly, then another. Each extraction was different, requiring subtle changes in how he manipulated his invisible touch. It was harrowing work, where one slip-up could mean certain death for his patient. The Jedi forced himself to ignore the growing anxiety and pounding of his heart as the stress of the process began to overwhelm his nerves. Revan soon lost count of how many tendrils he had unhooked and only focused on the next, his fingers moving with instinctive care and detail to gently coax his target out.

Time became an meaningless concept after a while. All he could hear was the frequent hum and beeping of the monitors, the laboured breathing of the child. From time to time, the Jedi was forced to stop as his hands began to tremble from over exertion or when the pounding in his head became unbearable. It required taking several bouts of deep breaths and a swill of water before he could resume his operation while the others looked on anxiously.

Revan didn't know how many times this happened. It could have been minutes, or even and hour, but eventually the Jedi found himself looking at the last stray tendril which had dug into the right atrium.

"Okay..." the Jedi said through gritted teeth. "last one."

But as soon as he began tugging at the stray thread, the beeping noise from the heart monitor changed its pitch and began to wail ominously.

_Beep.. beep..beep..beep.._

"W-What was that?" Mysteel demanded. Octavia studied the readings from the monitors intently.

"Heart rate is rising erratically." said Octavia, delivering his diagnosis with all the tact of a lobotomized mad scientist. "At this rate, it will be a miracle if her heart doesn't pop like a balloon."

Mysteel's mouth dropped in horror. She turned back to Revan and said in an urgent tone.

"Rev, not to be a bitch or anything...but hurry the _fuck__up!"_

Revan tried to do just that, but the tendril was refusing to come out, despite his insistent prodding.

"Dammit," the Jedi muttered, much to Mysteel's consternation.

"That is _not_ what I want to hear!"

_..beep._

Revan ignored all the noises and tried to think of a solution. He knew any more pressure to the heart could be fatal, but decided he needed to risk another jolt.

"Okay. Give her another shot. Just a tiny zap..."

"Rev, come on, that's-"

"You either help me take the risks, or you can stop bitching about hurrying up!" snapped Revan. "You can't have it both ways! Choose!"

With a shaking finger, Mysteel pointed to the area Revan had indicated and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry honey," she whispered, before jolting the child again.

It worked. Revan felt the tentacle uncoil fractionally, just enough for him to needle out another fraction of an inch.

"...come on you bastard. Get out." he hissed between pulls. The Jedi could feel the tentacle stretching, like a stringy lech of cheese, just waiting to be snapped in two...

"130 and rising..." warned Octavia. "Lord Commander..,"

Revan interrupted the droid's warning with a snarl of triumph as he felt the tendril snap off the right atrium completely.

"Got it! That was the last one!"

He took a moment to steady his breathing.

"Okay...I'm going to need a scalpel to cut out the damn thing. A clean one."

One of his aides gave him the desired tool and a pair of gloves. But while he was covering his hands, things took a turn for the worse. The heart monitor changed frequency again, blaring out a three staccato rhythm while the readouts from the other equipment changed from amber to red.

.BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...

"Dammit, why does that bloody thing keep inventing new problems?" hissed Mysteel.

Revan grabbed the monitor and looked at the data streaming through.

"Dammit" he whispered, his heart sinking "It's ventricular tachychardia."

"I-is that bad?" asked one of the soldiers seeing that Mysteel had covered her mouth with both hands, her body rigid with fear. Revan gave him a withering look.

"Does it sound good?" The Jedi growled as he began lowering his blade towards the child's abdomen. Before he could make the incision, the Twi'lek grabbed his arm with frantic strength.

"What are you doing?" She cried. "We can't cut her up now! She'll die on the table!"

"The parasite has to come out, or she'll just get worse!" snapped Revan, trying to shake her grip off but the Twi'lek would not yield. Seeing this was getting nowhere, the Jedi turned to the soldier rummaging through the desk drawers. "You, have you found their medication yet?"

He nodded uncertainly. "I-I've found something. A lot of bottles. They're even labelled...but I don't know what half of them mean,"

"Is there there anything labelled Amiodarone?"

"...No," said the soldier after a quick inspection of his collection.

"Procainamide? Ephineperine?" snapped Revan impatiently.

"I don't-...Wait yes! Procainamide!" the soldier said, snatching up a bottle.

"Give me 10 milligrams."

The soldier rushed back and measured the desired dosage into a needle. He handed it to Revan who in turn injected it into the patient's UV line. After several tense seconds of waiting, the warnings became less dire. Everyone relaxed fractionally.

"Okay, I think that bought us a few seconds." said Revan in a haggard voice. "But we have to take out the parasite _now_."

Mysteel nodded reluctantly. She gave one last kiss on her sister's forehead and let Revan step in front of the child. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, the Jedi positioned the scalpel just below the Twi'lek left ribcage. Very carefully, Revan made a shallow incision right beneath the Twi'lek's chest, using his left hand to keep his right from shaking. Mysteel gasped and buried her face into her hands as she saw the first thin line of blood. The Jedi finished the cut with practiced efficiency then extended his hand over his patient. Ignoring the increasingly loud blaring noise from the heart monitor, Revan curled his hand and the parasite started moving with excruciating slowness away from the heart. Everyone could see the malformation wriggling underneath her skin as it made it's way to the hole. A few of them turned green at the sight. The heart monitor started wailing again.

_.BEEEEP-_

"140 Lord Commander," growled Octavia in his mechanical drone. "I am certain she cannot tolerate much more stress,"

"Almost there," said Revan through gritted teeth. Three seconds of intense concentration later, the black writhing mass came out with a _schlurrp_. Some of the soldiers gasped.

"Rancor's ass," one of the swore. "I think I'm going to be sick,"

"Shut up, nobody fucking cares!" Growled another of his compatriots

The Jedi wordlessly handed the tumorous growth to Octavia. The droid tossed it to the floor and doused it in gouts of promethium flame. As the _Mallephagea_ screeched and burnt to a crisp, Mysteel peeked out from one of her hands.

"Is...is it over?" she asked tremulously.

Revan nodded wearily. "I think so...I'm going to start sew-"

Suddenly the heart monitor stopped its rapid staccato and held at a constant note.

_.BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_

The Jedi stared at it in horror.

_Asytole...dammit she flatlined._

Octavia was the one who announced the diagnosis. "Heart failure from the stress. She's dead."

"No!" Mysteel shrieked. The Twi'lek tried to claw her way to the child but was held back by two of Octavia's men.

_"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, No, No-!"_

"Paddles!" Revan snapped. His aide handed him the equipment and the Jedi began rubbing the chargers together.

"Charging...110, clear!"

There was a whine of electrical buildup. As its crescendo, Revan pressed the paddles down on the tiny Twi'lek's chest. Electrical discharge jolted the child and she spasmed but the monitor remained unchanged.

"Charging...125, clear!"

Another jolt. Revan stared at the monitor accusingly for several heartbeats. Nothing.

"Epinephrine," growled the Jedi. His aide automatically injected the contents into her UV. After several seconds it became clear that the drug had no effect. Mysteel collapsed to down to both knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Sister, no...please not again," she wept. Everyone looked down at the floor glumly. Revan's aide began putting a blanket over the deceased body.

"No," The Jedi shouldered the man aside and began administering CPR to the Twi'lek. He gave intermediate chest compressions and mouth to mouth, repeating the process every few seconds. One of his subordinates tried to take his shoulder and say it was over but the Jedi would not be dissuaded.

_You're __not __going __to __die __on __me __dammit _Revan thought savagely between chest pumps. _I __order __you __not __to __die!_

It seemed like a hopeless gesture. After several more cycles, even Mysteel had given up hope. She looked back at Revan, her eyes red with tears.

"Rev, stop. Please just let her..."

_Beep._

Everyone froze at the noise. Then as one, they turned to back to the heart monitor.

"Was that...?"

_Beep...beep...Beep.__Beep._ _Beep_.

One of the soldiers walked up to the child and took her wrist. The others stared, not daring to hope.

"Strong pulse..." he reported. "Heart rate at ninety, Blood pressure is normal. I...I think she's going to be okay."

As soon as the droid reported the miraculous news, the child took in a gasp of air and began to cry. Mysteel let out a cry as well, but this time it was a cry of joy. She tore away from the soldiers and flung herself back at the child. Then she crushed her in a bear hug, smothering the tiny face with kisses.

"Oh honey...you had me so scared..."

The little girl gave tiny squeal of happiness at finally seeing a familiar face. Revan stepped back with a sigh, his chest fluttering with relief. For a moment, even he had thought she was at the point of no return. Performing ad hoc surgery was definitely something he was not cut out to do.

_I'm never going to do that again._

Mysteel took a moment from her hugging to look at the person who had saved her sister's life.

"Thanks Rev." she said in a quavering voice. "I-I...just thanks. You're the best."

Revan was too tired to reply.

* * *

With the Mallephagea removed, the child's condition improved rapidly, just as Revan predicted it would. Eventually Aethon's medics arrived and began a real assessment of her condition. They eventually concluded that the girl would need special antibiotics and a blood transfer to filter out the foreign toxins that had been injected within her body. Mysteel readily volunteered.

Unfortunately, the other test subjects were already dead or proved too corrupted for the medics to rescue. Some arguments were made for preserving the bodies for dissection and study but in the end, this was deemed too unethical. Revan ordered Octavia to torch their bodies to cinders, with nary a word of complaint from anyone else.

* * *

It took two more hours before the complex was declared officially secure. Revan stood amongst the outer walls of Malleus' fortress, watching as soldiers led a procession of freed slaves out from the underground complex. In the horizon, dozens of soldiers scoured the dead, gathering the heroic Mandalorians, Widowmakers and droids that had fallen in the initial thrust against Malleus army. Others were burning their fallen enemies in promethium, letting the flames consume their vile bodies until there was naught but ash and smoke.

The Jedi watched silently, leaning on his walking stick as men and women carried out their duties with brisk efficiency. He would have helped, but it was all he could do to stay conscious and the medics had basically ordered him not to aggravate his injuries. The drugs they had injected him with had taken the edge off the pain though, the crippling muscle damage and broken bones receding to a dull throbbing sensation. They had also recommended he return to the ship for further treatment but Revan would have none of that. He wouldn't leave until the cleanup was complete.

Eventually a messenger walked up and informed him that Kynes and the rest of upper command staff were convening for a debrief at his leisure. Revan nodded and hobbled towards to the hastily erected command tent which served as their mobile base of operations. To his mild surprise, many of the men stopped their work to pass on words

of congratulations or even to pat his back. Even the Mandalorians turned to hammer their chest plates in signs of respect.

Revan walked on bemused. Word of his exploits had evidently spread through the camp and many of them were eager to express their gratitude. Even his most unruly subordinates had words of encouragement for him.

"Lord Commander," said Octavia as Revan approached. The machine titled its head ever so slightly as a gesture of respect, something that had been absent before the battle against Malleus began.

"I believe congratulations are in order. The crimes Malleus committed on the galaxy was long and terrible, but you put an end to his vicious cycle. You should be proud human. Few could have triumphed over one of Ajunta Pall's chosen,"

Mandalore grunted in displeasure at the praise. "Pfah, the boy got lucky. If I had crossed blades with the fiend first, I would be the one covered in glory."

The giant man paused before adding grudgingly "...but it is a good kill."

Mysteel smiled sweetly at him as well. "I'm sure even my sister would be impressed with what you did Rev. Although she'd probably deny it to her death and break anybody's legs if they said otherwise." That earned a chuckle or two from the group. Revan was in too much pain to join in, so he simply twisted his mouth into a smile.

"Also," Kynes said eventually "I heard we have you to thank for the life of Thalia's daughter,"

"It is more a testament to the child's fortitude than anything I did." replied Revan solemnly "In case you haven't heard, I killed her first,"

"Nevertheless, the gesture is...appreciated." the sniper seemed uncomfortable, as if giving praise was something was utterly foreign to her personality.

_I__bet__that__was__hard__to__say._Revan thought. He simply shrugged though and asked. "How is she doing?"

Mysteel smile dwindled. "Medics said she's recovering. Physically at least. We don't know how much mental trauma she's suffered. Lucidae will probably..."

As she trailed off, Kynes coughed and held out a datapad for Revan to inspect.

"We've done a complete rundown of the fortress. All twenty levels. According to the latest reports, our teams found around a hundred slaves left alive. About half of them showed obvious signs of Malleus' corruption and had to be...dealt with. Of the uninfected, only half of them retain any semblance of sanity and have been secured for on transports. What do you want done with the rest?"

"Take them back. All of them. We'll sort the survivors out back on Darith."

Kynes nodded, marking the order on her own list.

"Very well. The search parties have also done an inventory of Malleus' possessions and have found many artifacts. Many of these relics seem to be native to Korriban, although most of them seem to be of very little practical use. Probably worth a fortune though."

"If they come from Korriban, they have been irrevocably been tainted by the Sith and their dark influence." said Revan grimly "Destroy the relics."

The sniper shrugged.

"As you wish. The scouts also found huge caches of ammunition, fuel, weapons, chemicals..."

"Let me make this clear." the Jedi cut in. "Nothing, and I mean _nothing_from that vile cesspool is to leave this planet. I want this fortress burnt, buried and salted to the ground. Understood?"

The three commanders looked at each other. Even by their standards, complete extermination seemed like overkill.

"It is your choice Lord Commander." said Kynes eventually "But there is also the matter of information. My data sniffers have discovered treasure troves of logs and encrypted data files. Data that will likely shed light on Malleus' affairs for the past few decades. We can't just leave this wellspring of information go to waste."

Revan conceded the point.

"Download what you can from the databases. Then destroy all the hardcopies. Send a scrubbing virus through the system beforehand just to be safe."

Kynes nodded, making another referendum on her data pad.

"Lastly, all ten missing capsules of the _Praeconor__Oblivio_ have been accounted for. I have taken the liberty of applying enhanced security protocols to transport them back to Darith,"

"No."

"...No?" echoed the sniper, looking mildly perplexed.

"We will not be transporting them back at all." declared Revan in iron tones. "The weapons will be destroyed, its existence purged. Once our ship's reach orbit, we will put the _Praeconor__Oblivio_ casings into empty missile tubes then eject them into the solar system's sun, leaving the heat to vaporize it's contents. Nobody will ever get to tamper with this vile technology ever again."

His words provoked many different reactions. Mandalore grunted in approval at this decision, Octavia's eyes flickered ever so slightly betraying his displeasure while Kynes looked like she had eaten something that she thought would be sweet but turned out to be vomit.

"Lucidae's commands we're clear." she said after taking a moment to compose herself "Retrieve the weapons if we could. Destroy it as a last resort which is no longer the case. I'm sure that with Malleus out of the equation, he would want to reclaim the weapon for further study."

"I know what he wants." said Revan coldly, turning to face the sniper directly. "I know a great many more things."

A sudden hush descended upon the group. Mysteel suddenly looked very worried while Kynes betrayed only the slightest tick of anxiety on her face.

"Oh?" she replied with forced neutrality, "And what exactly did Malleus tell you?"

"Don't play games with me," said Revan in a dangerously low voice "You know exactly what I'm referring to. Or did you think you could just keep Lucidae's true nature away from me forever?"

There was a soft menace behind his words. Some of the workers had stopped their activities and were watching the confrontation. Mysteel stepped in front of Revan before things got ugly.

"Rev, I know how this looks. But it isn't what you think. Lucidae is-"

"Not a wanted war criminal?" said Revan pointedly. "Or were you going to tell me he isn't a traitor to the Jedi Order?"

Mysteel's face reddened. "No, he isn't. I mean...not really. It's...it's hard to explain."

"Then explain."

"Well ummm...ah..." stuttered Mysteel, before finally giving up on lying. "I don't think I'm the best person to give you the big picture."

She placed a hand on the side of his arm, which Revan just stared at accusingly.

"Look, I know you think he made you help him under false pretence, but Lucidae can explain everything. Please just come back with us to Darith and we'll clear this whole thing up,"

"Oh I will, if only to get some answers. But this weapon is not coming with us,"

Kynes looked like she wanted to argue the point but Revan cut her off again.

"Lucidae wants to study this vile technology. But some things should not be allowed to exist. Malleus is one. The _Praeconor__Oblivio_ is another."

"Malleus used it for his nefarious purposes." agreed the sniper. "But the technology in itself is not fundamentally evil. It is a tool. A technological mar-"

"It is an abomination!" snapped Revan. "A technology that warps the very fabric of lifeforms? That goes against the natural order of things. Only the Force should have providence over how organisms evolve. And I won't have someone like Lucidae get his hands on it."

"That is not something for you or me to decide," said Kynes flatly. "Lucidae is the Master of Aethon. Whatever he says, goes."

Revan sneered at her in contempt.

"Spoken like a true fanatic. Do you even have an original thought in your body?"

The sniper glared daggers at him but said nothing.

"You are my commanders." said Revan, turning to his remaining three subordinate "What say you?"

"The weapon should be destroyed." growled Mandalore without preamble. "Shameful enough that one would resort to such ways to strengthen one's clan. But I've also seen the recordings of what it does to the enemy, how it desecrates their bodies. I will not be associated with something so dishonourable, especially something coveted by the Reborn. "

Revan nodded and turned to Octavia.

"We should take it back," the machine stated, "Only a fool would pass up an opportunity to study such a potent weapon. Simply the threat of possessing such a devastating item would give Aethon an insurmountable advantage in future engagements."

The Jedi took this in without comment and glanced at the Twi'lek "Mysteel?"

"I...well.." Mysteel hesitated, suddenly looking like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Mandalore and Octavia looked on impassively but Kyne's stare was challenging, as if she was silently daring Mysteel to contradict her Master. After a few moments of indecision, the Twi'lek said quietly.

"We should destroy it,"

Revan nodded, somewhat surprised and relieved that she had sided with him. Kynes looked as close to angry as she ever did.

"Are you saying that because that is what you think is right, or because the Jedi gained leverage over you when he saved your sister's life?" she demanded. Mysteel glared back at her, less than pleased at the accusation.

"Why can't it be both?" she said coldly before turning back to the rest of the troupe

"Look, I wasn't thrilled by the idea of keeping this thing around in the first place. I mean, look at everybody who ever got their hands on it. Look what it nearly did to my sister."

"Pure coincidence," Kynes insisted. The Twi'lek shook her head.

"The Praeconor is cursed and people end up dead, one way or another. Better we burn it now and stop the collateral damage,"

The sniper glared at her then sighed, knowing her vote was defeated. She turned her head back at the Jedi.

"Are you going to let these superstitions color your decision?"

"It doesn't matter if it is superstition or not." Revan replied. "Three against two. Majority rules."

The Jedi gave Kynes a look that brooked no argument.

"Burn it."


	41. Chapter 41 The Truth

_The truth hurts...doesn't it?_

_-Lucidae_

* * *

Standing on the command deck aboard the _Iron __Will, _Revan watched intently as the warheads bearing the _Praeconor __Oblivio _were ejected from the starboard missile tubes. He had personally overseen the transportation and loading of each payload, making sure every milligram of the malevolent substance was packed and accounted for. As much as he relied on the crew members of Aethon to carry our his will, he couldn't trust anybody but himself with something so sensitive as its destruction.

The warheads quickly grew into indistinctive specs as they hurtled straight into the red sun's molten core and within a few seconds, had disappeared completely.

Waiting a few more minutes to be sure, the Jedi turned back to his adjutant and asked. "Status?"

"The capsules have been incinerated" the man confirmed after doing a quick appraisal on his view screen. "Our scanners are not detecting any residual traces of the _Praeconor __Oblivio_."

"Good. Is the rest of the fleet standing by?"

"Yes Lord Commander. All ships are ready to make the jump. The ETA back to Darith is ten hours and twenty seven minutes. Should I give the order for all ships to engage?"

Revan nodded and turned to his second in command. "You have the bridge. I'll be in my quarters."

The lieutenant saluted.

"Yes sir. Also, Sub Commander Kynes instructed me to inform you that she has taken the liberty of sending a message back to Darith on the results of this mission,"

"Of course she has," muttered Revan before making his way for the exit. As he hobbled along, the crew sent their Lord Commander off with salutes and the synchronized stomping of armored feet.

_Force willing, this will be the last time I have to subject myself to that sort of pomp and ceremony._

But as he left the bridge, the Jedi allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The mission was over, and despite Aethon's casualties, their main objectives had been fulfilled. Malleus was dead and all his followers had been wiped from the face of existence.

_Well...almost all of them._

The traitor Matarl had been dragged in chains aboard the _Iron__Will_ and into one of their many prison cells. A detail of no less than a dozen Mandalorians and Widowmakers were present at every moment, making sure that the murdering bastard had no chance of escaping again. Not that it seemed likely. From what he'd heard, all Matarl had been doing since he woke up was braying threats and smearing the walls with his own blood. The Twi'lek was little more than another Abomination now, fuelled completely by rage and instinct.

The trek to his room was short, but with his injuries, it felt like an entire pilgrimage. Just as the doors were hissing open at his arrival, Revan noticed Mysteel walking down the opposite end of the corridor. The Twi'lek gave the Jedi a tired smile when she saw him.

"Hey Rev. I finally managed to put my sister to sleep." she yawned and did a languid stretch "I could probably use some myself."

"How is she?" Revam inquired. Mysteel's smile faded.

"Sad. She asked when she could see mother again and I had to remind her that she's gone for good. Then she screamed and threw things at me for a while. And after that, we cried for about an hour before she passed out from exhaustion."

Revan nodded hesitantly, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "For your loss."

Mysteel gave a solemn nod. "Thanks Rev, I appreciate it."

The two stood looking awkwardly at each other before Mysteel walked closer and put an arm around his waist. Revan looked at her in surprise.

"Here," said the Twi'lek with a smile "let me help you into your room."

Despite his protests, Mysteel managed to support Revan into his chambers without too much trouble. Carefully, the Twi'lek lowered him onto the bed, lifting the Jedi's tired legs off the floor. Revan nodded in thanks and let out a sigh. It felt like ages since he had laid on a decent piece of furniture.

"So, can I get you anything?" Mysteel asked brightly, as she smoothed Revan's sheets. "A drink? An extra pillow? Maybe a massage with a happy ending?"

Revan chuckled at her offer, thinking she was joking but Mysteel's tone was actually quite suggestive.

"Thank you but no. Rest will be fine."

"Oh, your no fun at all." pouted the Twi'lek. But rather than leave the Jedi to his rest, she took a seat next to the bed. Revan looked at her curiously, waiting for her to say something. Mysteel looked uncharacteristically embarrassed. She hesitated for a few seconds before asking.

"So...now that your mission is over, do you plan to leave us? I mean the rest of Aethon?"

Revan nodded. "Eventually yes. After I have a...talk with Lucidae. And I would like to pay my respects to Thalia at the very least."

"Good...that's good." Mysteel nodded. Then in a bold move, she reached out and touched Revan's thigh. The Jedi's expression became uncomfortable.

"You know Revan..." She began in a husky voice, stroking his leg gently. "I know you're out of a job now, so why don't you stay with Aethon permanently?

Mysteel locked his gaze with her beautiful sapphire eyes as she put out the suggestion, a shy smile on her lips

"I'm sure if I asked Lucidae, he would make you one of us in a heartbeat. Think of all the...fun we could get into."

It was at this point that Revan became much more aware of the Twi'lek's beauty. Her flawless skin, her perfect features...her bountiful breasts. After all this time with her, the Jedi was sure he would never meet another Twi'lek half so beautiful. Which is why it made it so much harder for him to say,

"Thank you, but no. I am bound for the Jedi Order,"

Mysteel's smile faltered, replaced by confusion.

"What? But you said-"

"This mission I undertook was to absolve me of my crimes in the eyes of the council." the Jedi explained. "With its successful conclusion, I hope to regain my station again as a Jedi Knight."

Mysteel looked dismayed at his words.

"Why would you want to go back?" she asked plaintively. "Didn't you say the council was just using you like a tool? Why return to a place where the people treat you like crap?"

"I-"

"Is it T'shere?" she cut in. "If you don't want to serve with her, we can go to another company. I'm pretty popular with the second. And they could always use another fighter."

"It's not T'shere," Revan began. "I-"

"Lucidae then?" Mysteel suggested quickly "I mean, I know he isn't your favorite person right now, but-"

Revan finally raised his hands in a placating gesture to stop her rambling.

"Don't get me wrong Mysteel. While I might not see eye to eye with your leader,

I think what you and Aethon do out here is a good thing. Your band brings hope to a part of the Republic that has none. But while your allegiance is to Lucidae, mine will always, _always_ be with the Order and my brothers."

Mysteel's smile dissipated completely, replaced with an expression that looked like the Jedi had punched her in the gut.

"Oh...well that's too bad then." she said in a carefully neutral voice. The Twi'lek retracted her hand and stood up rigidly, her face struggling to mask her disappointment.

"I-I guess I'll see you later." With that, she walked out of the room without nary another word. Revan watched her go then sighed when the doors hissed shut. He probably should have been more diplomatic in his response, but decided it would have been pointless to keep her hopes up. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

The moment he did however, Revan felt that something was amiss. It wasn't anything concrete, no shuffling of movement or even a breeze against his face...just an inherit sense of unnaturalness.

So when the Jedi opened his eyes again, he was not surprised to see a pair of dull white lights glinting at him from underneath a shadowy cowl. The thing had appeared seemingly out of thin air and was sitting in the same chair that Mysteel had occupied not ten seconds ago. Normally with an uninvited guest, the Jedi would have reached for something to attack it with. But this was no ordinary guest.

_The Watcher is watching me. How quaint._

There were very few things that unnerved the Jedi, or at least very few things that _continued_ to unnerve him after a given amount of time, but the Watcher was one of them. Dark, secretive and ancient, Revan had no doubt that this...thing had been observing his progress from afar ever since he had arrived on Darith. The Jedi didn't know how old his handler was, but based on the abundance of wiring and augmetics peering out from under its mottled sleeves, he wouldn't be surprised if the Watcher was older than Malleus. And now, he was looking at Revan as if he was ready to bestow some sort of judgment.

"I was wondering when you would show again." Revan said eventually. "How did you get on the ship?"

"Easily," replied the Watcher before posing one of its own "How do you feel?"

"As bad as you look." the Jedi shifted uncomfortably into a sitting position "Why are you here?"

The Watcher tilted his head as if the answer was obvious "To tell your main objective in this region is over."

"And what exactly _was_ that objective?" Revan asked sarcastically. "Was I even successful?"

"You performed to my satisfaction." Stated the Watcher like he was stating the weather for the day. "The events that transpired in these past few days have set in motion a skein of ripple effects that will have a major impact on the galaxy in the future. Just like the Lady foresaw."

Revan grunted in contempt. "Again with this nonsense of predetermination. If anything, the events of the past few days have convinced me more than ever that destiny is a word for fools."

His guest shrugged and got out of the seat to stare into the void of space.

"Call it that if you will. The truth of the matter is that many outcomes were possible. Before you arrived on Darith, the dark future that Malleus had planned was actually inevitable, which would have definitely ruined the Jedi Order and its fiefdom. That is why we intervened. To shift the tides of fate in order to make the survival of the Republic most likely. That is and always will be, our goal."

"Your goal perhaps." Revan replied "But whatever you and your associates choose to do from now on, I intend to rejoin the Order. My time with you is over."

"You're mistaken Revan," said the Watcher calmly, turning around. "We have only just begun our acquaintance. This mission was but a field test."

Revan's expression darkened. "You said if I was successful, the council would remove the stain on my record and let me rejoin the Order," he growled.

"No, I said if you were successful, you would be with your handlers again. There is a difference."

The Watcher raised a bony hand to dissuade any forthcoming arguments.

"You have made no secret that you wish to return to the Order and retake your mantle as a Jedi Knight. But know that even if the council reinstates your position, your allegiance will never truly ever be with them again. There will be other missions to perform, missions that do not necessarily align with the strict moral code that the Order espouses."

"And why would the council allow that?" Revan sneered. "How is it that you can flaunt so much autonomy right under the Master's noses while I am hung as a scapegoat for the slightest offense?"

"The better question Revan, is why I bother to tolerate having the Jedi council exist at all?"

Revan was taken aback by such a bold statement. Was the Watcher above the scrutiny of the Council? The Grand Master? Was such a thing even possible? When the Jedi stayed silent, the Watcher continued.

"Ever since the great Civil War, the so called council has not held true legitimate power. For how could such fools be trusted to guard the Republic, fools that have allowed so much strife and corruption into their ranks? You know the things I refer to."

Revan sighed. "Exar Kun."

"Among other things" The Watcher agreed "such as those experiments you discovered prior to our acquaintance. Matters of state are now managed and internally scrutinized by the Lady and her most trusted servants. Which is why the council have become a facade, the front we put up to the galaxy so our enemies will not know who really holds the chain of command."

"And who-what are you exactly?" the Jedi demanded.

"The Republic's last and only hope for an existence." replied the Watcher simply. When Revan grunted dismissively, the Watcher glided over to tower over the Jedi, leaning down to fix him with a baleful glare. Despite himself, the Jedi backed his head away from the scrutiny.

"Make no mistake Revan," the thing rumbled "the galaxy is in its bleakest hour. Political destabilization, Sith, Mandalorians and other untold enemies prowl at the fringes of civilized space, eager to bring everything crashing down. Today, you delayed that catastrophe, but as one enemy is voided, another will take its place.

We must be constantly vigilante if we want to see the Republic live to see the next millennia. And in that process, we seek out the traitors, the misguided and the weak. _That_ is what we are."

The decrepit thing laid a withered metal finger on the Jedi chest. "And you are the blade that carries out our will."

Revan absorbed this information silently, looking down at the finger then back into the Watcher's face. For a moment, he thought he saw something move underneath the cowled hood. Something dark and sinister.

"And you expect me to just...go along with your plans?" he asked in a challenging tone.

"Why wouldn't I?" the Watcher asked "You have seen the stakes for yourself. How the balance of power rests on a knife's edge. Tell me human, could you really turn away from these responsibilities, knowing what you know now?"

Revan silently conceded the point.

"Will I get to at least meet this 'Lady' you hold in such high esteem?" he asked

"You already have. Perhaps not in the conventional sense but just like the Force, she is always with us."

"How reassuring," Revan replied sarcastically.

"Your confidence in our organization is not required. Only your cooperation," the Watcher retorted. He stood back up, ramrod stiff.

"A private audience may be possible in time. But for now, you will have to be satisfied with doing her will."

"Am I to leave for Coruscant then?"

"Soon. There is still one more matter you have to attend to on Darith. You will know what I mean when the time comes. But when you do choose to leave, go to the main port where we first docked. You will find a starship registered under your name. Attend to your matters then return to Coruscant."

With that, the Watcher turned and began walking towards the doors. Just as he began to disappear out the archway, Revan called out from behind.

"And my rank? Will I be reinstated?".

The Watcher stopped and turned his head fractionally.

"For appearance sake, the title of Jedi Knight will be restored back upon you. But that honorific will mean little to nothing where you are going next."

"Which is?"

"In time. For now, rest and recuperate from the trials of this mission. I will call upon you shortly,"

Revan accepted this with a silent nod.

"By the way, how did you-" he started to ask, until he blinked and realized that the Watcher was no longer in the room.

"-get in here?"

Revan stared for moment longer then shrugged and turned to look through the window, into the void of space and its infinite possibilities.

* * *

The rest of the return trip proved to be uneventful. Within the ten hours his lieutenant estimated, the entire fleet translated into the Darith's system undetected, their cloaking systems rendering them invisible to the planet's orbital sensors. As they reached orbit, contact with the rest of Aethon was established planetside. When landing coordinates were confirmed, a tiny transport flew out from from the _Iron__Will's_launch bay. It descended through the planet's atmosphere, careful to avoid any patrol routes that Reeka might have employed. Five minutes later, the transport came to rest at the hidden star port Aethon had employed earlier. As the engines powered down, the hatch opened to let its occupants back on solid ground.

Revan and his command retinue walked down the steps to be greeted by half a company of Aethon's warriors. Once the group appeared, a raucous cheer erupted from among the ranks as they clamoured amongst the conquerers. Revan found himself undated with smiles and slaps on the back while words like "Glory to Aethon!" and "Congratulations." were thrown about like favors. A few of the females even looked like they were jostling each other for a chance to kiss him, but Revan had gained enough experience with Ava to know how to avoid that ignomous fate.

Octavia, Mandalore and Kynes received a more restrained welcome but Mysteel was similarly lauded with attention. Many of the soldiers raised a new cheer when they saw the tiny Twi'lek bundled in her arms, who looked understandably frightened at the newfound attention. After two dozen cheek pinches and attempts to whisk her away, the child buried herself between her sister's breasts to avoid further harassment. And while Mysteel was busy fending off the tide of admirers armed with smiles and platitudes, a solitary figure approached her from amongst the sea of armored flesh.

Once they noticed, all the soldiers parted respectfully to let the person through. Mysteel was so busy protecting her sister, she didn't notice the newcomer until she was tapped on the shoulder. But when she turned around, her face brightened immediately.

"T'shere!".

Revan turned around and was surprised to see that it was indeed the Arkanian smiling wanly at her sibling. The Jedi noticed that she looked significantly paler than before and seemed to have lost a fair share of weight. But the fact that T'shere was standing on her own two feet was remarkable, even measured by the superhuman feats of a Jedi's constitution. Mysteel's joy at seeing her previously comatose sister was immediate. She threw one arm over T'shere's shoulder and hugged her fiercely, sobbing in happiness. T'shere groaned.

"Not so hard, Mysteel. You'll open my stitches!" But her mock protests only made Mysteel clutch all the harder. After the two sisters had embraced for a few more seconds, Mysteel finally stepped back and asked in an awed voice.

"But how did you-?"

"Survive?" T'shere finished with a thin smile. "You didn't really think a flesh wound to keep me down, did you?"

"Oh T'shere," Mysteel murmured, kissing her on the cheek. "you don't know how happy I am to see you,"

"Now that's not something I hear every day,"

The Arkanian turned her attention to the little bundle in Mysteel's care. She held out her arms and Mysteel gladly deposited her baby sister into them.

"Funbags!" the child exclaimed. She nuzzled the Arkanian's neck, her joy at being reunited with her other sibling no less than Mysteel's. T'shere smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"I see you brought our sister back in one piece," she said approvingly. "I'm glad you found a way to pull the little rascal out of mortal danger without a hair harmed...so to speak,"

Mysteel blushed.

"Oh actually, I can't really take credit for that. If anybody was responsible for saving her life, it was Revan."

T'shere's smile curdled like sour milk at the words. "Oh really." she said stiffly. The Arkanian handed the child to a nearby bystander and turned towards the Jedi, who had been observing the exchange unobtrusively like the others. A few of the soldiers coughed and looked away, not daring to meet their former commander's eyes. Everyone in Aethon knew there there was no love lost between her and the Jedi and no one could be sure how the volatile Arkanian would react at the man who usurped her.

"I see you've been promoted," said the Arkanian eventually, eyeing the rank pins on his chest.

"A one time thing, I assure you," replied Revan. "I have no intent on keeping command,"

T'shere did not seem appeased.

"I assume you're mighty proud right now Jedi." she said in a cold voice. "It only took you a few days to do something Aethon has been trying decades to do."

"T'shere, c'mon. That's not fair." said Mysteel stepping up between them, a worried look blemishing her immaculate features. T'shere glanced back at her.

"Don't worry Sis. I don't care who killed Malleus as long as that wretched monster and the rest of his tainted brethren are dead. Which brings me to my next question."

The Arkanian turned completely to face her sister, her face suddenly grim.

"Why isn't _Matarl_ dead?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Evidently, details of the missions's results had trickled down to the Arkanian's pointed ears, and she was less than pleased with the outcome. As T'shere continued to stare, Mysteel looked down at her feet like a scolded child.

"I'm waiting Tails," said T'shere with a trace of impatience. Mysteel shot Revan a nervous look before stammering out a reply.

"He-he was defenceless when I found him. I couldn't just murder him in cold blood,"

"Murder?" hissed the Arkanian, all trace of warmth draining from her face. "You mean the thing he did to our mother? That thing?"

When Mysteel remained silent, the Arkanian grew even more angry.

"You remember Thalia, don't you Mysteel? The woman who nursed us and cared for us all these years. The person that was raped and later killed by this wretch? Tell me _sister_, how can you suffer him to live when you know what he _did_."

Some of the soldiers around them muttered their agreement. Mysteel tried to turn her face away so no one could see her anguish but the Arkanian wrenched it back. "_Well_?"

After a painfully long silence, Mysteel whispered. "It's-it's not the Jedi way,"

T'shere laughed scornfully at her words. "Open your eyes Mysteel. The Jedi code is just a pile of Rancor turd. What use is a code that lets sinners like Matarl live? I knew you were naive sister, but even I didn't think you could be so _stupid_."

Mysteel looked like she was about to burst into tears. Revan felt a flare of anger in his gut, but quelled it down. As much as he wanted to give the Arkanian a good verbal thrashing, he decided it wasn't his place to interfere with the sibling rivalry.

"Sister, please." Mysteel begged "I don't want to fight. Not now-"

The words died in her mouth as another figure materialized from the armored throng, right behind her volatile sister. T'shere looked back and also fell silent. In fact, a sudden hush had descended upon the ranks and some even fell to one knee at the new presence.

"Master..." Mysteel whispered.

A chiseled face, the color of marble smiled back at her. Lucidae was dressed in the pearl white robes of his office, regal in its simplicity. The former Jedi Master's very presence seemed to inspire awe and respect. Soldiers bowed as he came near. Even Octavia still as a statue, tilted his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. Mandalore dashed his metal fist against his chest while Kynes drew a military salute. Revan said and did nothing, choosing to observe the events as they unfolded.

The Master acknowledged each of them before walking slowly to his wayward pupil. Then he extended a hand towards the Twi'lek's shoulder and said

"Mysteel. I am glad to see you."

Those simple words seemed to push her over the edge. The Twi'lek finally broke down into tears and embraced her mentor in a crushing hug.

"I'm sorry Master, for all the things I said to you before I left." Mysteel sobbed as she hugged her Master "I'm so sorry..."

Lucidae patted her on the back comfortingly. "Words are wind Mysteel. All that matters is that you and your sister are safe."

He took a step back and looked at Mysteel's face approvingly

"But I must say, you look better little one, rejuvenated. The dark pall I felt in you after your mother's death has been lifted."

"I was lost for awhile Master." Mysteel murmured. "But now I know that hatred only begets hatred and nothing good can come from that vicious cycle. With that knowledge, I am free."

Lucidae smile widened.

"That is all I ever wanted for you Tails,"

Mysteel gave a choked laugh and hugged harder. Sadly, their happy reunion was interrupted by a very angry female.

"I want that bastard dead Lucidae. Do you hear me?" T'shere snarled at the Master, her rage simmering like a boiling cauldron "Mysteel made the mistake of sparing him again, but I won't have it. This time, we execute him for all the crimes he has committed. My mother deserves no less,"

Lucidae broke the embrace and stared at his wayward pupil cooly.

"T'shere, you know we do not kill prisoners in cold blood." he said quietly, "And Mysteel was right to spare him."

The Arkanian's face twisted in rage.

"Are you _insane_?" She spat "You saw the report! He is a tainted spawn of Malleus' corruption! Not even fit to be called a Twi'lek now! Something so vile shouldn't be allowed to roam free!"

"I said nothing of the sort," Lucidae assured her. "When I first laid judgement on Matarl, I exiled him, but now he has earned the strictest censure. I have made arrangements for the traitor to be sent to a penal colony, where he will spend the rest of his life in a maximum security prison. The fiend will never hurt another innocent soul again."

There were murmurs of approval from most of the crowd, but T'shere did not looked appeased. "Not enough." she growled. "That's not enough Lucidae!"

The Arkanian whipped her baleful glare to the other commanders. "Have you all misplaced your tongues? Say something before the bastard is whisked away!"

Kynes looked oddly coquettish and shuffled her feet under the scrutiny. When T'shere glared at Octavia, the machine merely shrugged.

"I do not care a fig if that thing lives or dies...unless I am doing the execution." it stated in a bored tone.

"Truth be told though, I have become so desensitized to wanton slaughter that one paltry kill won't even get me hard...metaphorically speaking,"

Furious, T'shere turned to Mandalore. But the metal clad warrior was even less help.

"Mandalorians only kill prey that are worthy." he rumbled "That excrement you refer to isn't even fit to be a smear on my boot."

Seeing that she was getting no support, T'shere's face purpled like a gourd. "Fools!" she raged "How can Aethon survive when it is led by such fools?"

Nobody immediately responded, knowing to contradict the Arkanian was simply to invite more of her wrath. Eventually Kynes walked up to T'shere and placed her hands on the Arkanian's shoulders to soothe her ire.

"T'shere," the sniper said firmly "if you think about it, Lucidae's plan is actually a worse fate for Matarl."

The Arkanian stared at her suspiciously. "How is that worse than death?" she growled.

"He'll be caged like an animal" Kynes replied "And with his affliction, Matarl will constantly be in the throes of hunger, with nothing to satisfy his lust for flesh. Every breath will be agony for him. I can't think of a worse punishment than that."

For the first time, something other than fury registered on the Arkanian's face. Her shoulders sagged slightly as she absorbed the words.

"Maybe..." T'shere muttered. "Maybe your right. But I'll want to see that bastard myself and witness firsthand how much agony he really is."

"You will, I promise"

Revan said nothing at the Arkanian's words but inwardly he wanted to spit at her. _Once __again, __she __completely __misses __the __point._

Mysteel didn't spare Matarl to see him suffer more. She did it because it was an act of mercy, something that was in short supply these days. Not that it made any difference to T'shere...or Kynes for that matter who seemed to agree with her commander's reasoning.

The sniper actually smiled then and whispered something into T'shere's ear, which seemed to mollify the Arkanian even more. Seeing that the storm had passed, Lucidae turned around and addressed the rest of the returning members of Aethon.

"You have my thanks, all of you for helping to end Malleus' dark reign. Many of you have lost allies and loved ones in our struggle against his forces and today their sacrifices are vindicated. And even if the Republic does not acknowledge it, know that this victory will long be remembered in the annals of our history. Well done."

His speech was short but effective, galvanizing the entire room to roar in approval. Mandalorians, Droids and Widowmakers alike raised their weapons and chanted.

_"Victory over the Reborn! Victory for Aethon!"_

The Master waited patiently for the applause to die down before saying.

"In the coming days, we shall honor our fallen. But now I believe I should have a word with the Lord Commander, who has overseen this mission so diligently. Return to base, all of you and recuperate. I shall talk to each of you soon."

The men and women around him saluted one more time and began to disperse. Aethon's sergeants began leading their respective teams with parade efficiency down the tunnels, back to headquarters. Some of the soldiers helped carry field beds bearing their wounded while others lifted the caskets of their honored dead. A few minutes later, only Revan, Lucidae and the rest of the commanders remained in the hangar bay.

Lucidae turned to his subordinates and said.

"All of you too. I wish to speak to Revan alone."

T'shere looked like she wanted to object but Lucidae's firm gaze dissuaded her. She cast one last lingering glare at the Jedi before letting Kynes guide her away. Mandalore and Octavia walked past Revan silently but Mysteel stopped beside him for a moment.

"I-I'll see you later, right?" she asked with a worried glance. The Jedi nodded. Mysteel gave a relieved smile then followed the rest of the troupe into the sewer tunnels.

When she left, it was just the two of them. Lucidae had been staring out into the horizon, but now he turned and let his gaze fall upon Revan, the first time he made eye contact since his return. Whatever the Master was thinking, the Jedi couldn't say.

"I was forwarded the debrief." The Master said eventually. "Kynes spoke highly of your skills, which in itself is no small feat." The Jedi stayed silent until Lucidae looked away.

"You are to be commended Revan, for persecuting this mission so successfully. Although the report didn't say this, I have no doubt it was you that saved Mysteel from her demons in her darkest hour, just like you said you would. Thank you."

"I keep my promises Lucidae...unlike others." said Revan quietly.

Lucidae turned back, a sad sort of smile on his face.

_You __know __don't __you?_ Those eyes seemed to say. The Jedi wasn't really surprised.

_The moment he sent me, he knew I would discover his dirty secret._

"You lied to me Lucidae" Revan growled.

"Yes," admitted the Master quietly.

"You twisted the truth of your history with Malleus, to make him look like the real villain in your tale. But that's only half the story isn't it?"

"It was a deception." nodded Lucidae, holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner "And I deserve every bit of your ire. But consider this, would you have even entrained the notion of helping me for a moment if you knew who I was?"

Revan refused to be dissuaded. "I take betrayal very seriously." he said in a menacing voice. "The last Master who deceived me ended up in a coma."

"If you wish to take your pound of flesh, that is your right" said Lucidae mildly. "But before you decide, I would ask that you to give me chance to explain myself."

"That's why I'm still here," said Revan, folding his arms. "You have this one chance. One chance to convince me not to send you on the same path as Malleus."

Lucidae nodded. The Master stayed silent for a moment, as if he was trying to collect his thoughts. Then he began in a quiet voice.

"What you have heard about me is true, I am Lucidae, former member of the Jedi Order, and one of the many that took up arms with the arch traitor during his rebellion against the council."

The words were like daggers in his skin. He had half expected that Lucidae would concoct a soothing lie, but his admission somehow made it worse. "Why?" said Revan, through gritted teeth.

"It was a matter of...a point of view. Ajunta Pall and I were of like mind. We were both men of science, men who sought out knowledge and wished to push the bounds of what the Force was capable of. And he was charismatic, that could not be denied. I did not lie when I said that the council feared his growing popularity among the Jedi ranks and they soon sought any excuse to persecute his actions."

Lucidae had acquired a distant look on his face, as he relived the memories of centuries past.

"Things came to a head when the council Ajunta Pall officially charged him with unethical and hendonistic practices amongst his growing coven of followers. Needless to say I was stunned. When I heard of these outlandish claims, I saw the Council's accusations as a sign of oppression against members of their own Order. So I readily helped my friend rally like minded followers, using my considerable influence to spread outrage and dissension among the Jedi ranks in the hopes that the council would back down from their charges. Sadly, that did not happen. The council retaliated by gathering their most zealous warriors and issuing strict sanctions against the perceived 'offenders'. Imprisonment, exile and worse. Neither side would relent and soon...it became all out war."

The Master's face twisted into a frown.

"That war was the darkest time of my life. Brother fought against brother amongst countless battlefields, and the lines between war crimes and casualty of wars became nonexistent. History will say that it was Ajunta Pall who was the villain but in truth, both sides committed atrocities that I could barely stomach. The murder of civilians, rape...nothing became sacred in the name of victory and I found it harder to support either side in their blatant disregard for basic decency. I asked Ajunta Pall to desist and surrender but my pleas fell on deaf ears. He remained convinced of unjust persecution from the more conservative elements of the council and was resolved to see their tyranny ended."

"It sounds like you wanted out of the war," Revan observed.

"Indeed. Eventually I could stand the slaughter no longer and sought a way to stop the bloodshed as quickly as possible. I contacted the council and told them I could convince a sizeable portion of Ajunta Pall's forces to surrender provided they would be given clemency. We debated the consequences for a long time and eventually the council agreed that none of the usurpers who surrendered would be killed, but beyond that they would not say. I reluctantly agreed to these terms and stood down... along with the majority of my own supporters. Ajunta Pall realized his forces were cut almost in half so he and the rest of his warriors fled to the darkest recesses of the galaxy, beyond the reach of the Republic. While my allies and I were left at the tender mercies of the council."

"And were they...merciful?" asked Revan eventually.

"In their own way..." replied Lucidae quietly "The council kept their word not to kill those that surrendered. But evidently, they believed regular imprisonment would be dangerous for their reputation because we would spread news of their own war crimes to the Republic. After much debate, the council decreed that we would be kept cryogenically frozen, to be imprisoned for all eternity so that our voices would not be heard."

Revan's eyes narrowed as Lucidae lapsed into silence at the recollection of his incarceration. He had never heard of a Jedi being punished in such a fashion. It did however, explain how this man survived the ravages of age. But if what Lucidae said was true, that would mean...

"Are you saying...there are others like you?" Revan asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Yes." said Lucidae quietly "Thousands of Jedi slumber scattered and divided amongst the stars. In a state of catatonic slumber never truly finding peace."

The Master grimaced. "It is probably the worse fate that could have befallen us. In our catatonic state, we can feel the cold grip of death all the time. And our bodies yearned for the release that would never come. Truly, a good clean killing blow would have been more merciful."

"If you are meant to be frozen for all eternity, then why are you free?" Revan asked pointedly. At the question, Lucidae laughed mirthlessly.

"I like to think of it as probation. For as you know, a Jedi Master is a terrible thing to waste. Especially someone as experienced as me since I know techniques and lore that have long been left to dust by the other Masters of this current age. And because I was the one that helped end the war, the council trusted me enough to make use of me, but not to bring me back into the fold. I am awoken from my indentured slumber every so often when the council has need of me, usually in times of need. And I think we can both agree that the galaxy needs their guardians now more than ever. So here I am, guarding the fringes of civilized space, ever vigilante for the growing threat that looms in the horizon."

"Threats like Malleus?"

"Among other things. My time in the Outer Rim has led me to discover many disturbing facts. The Republic has more enemies that they know of. But if I am being honest...my hunt for Malleus was of a more...personal nature."

"Because he was from your time?" inquired Revan curiously.

"It is more than that." Lucidae lapsed back into silence like he was wont to do, a pained expression on his face. "I can infer that Malleus told you about my link to Ajunta Pall. But did he tell you about my relation with him?"

Revan shook his head. "He only said that your first encounter with him extended far beyond that rescue mission on Darith. So I can only assume you knew him during the great Sundering."

"That is true" admitted Lucidae. "but I did not lie when I told you how I first came to discover his existence on this planet...or at least rediscover it. For the monster I met bore little to no resemblance to the man I knew three thousand years ago. Time and the perverse science of Ajunta Pall had warped him into something twisted and horrifying. I even convinced myself that they were not one in the same person. But when I discovered that holocron on Darith...I knew my worst fears to be confirmed."

Lucidae closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was obviously struggling to reveal one of his most shameful secrets. Revan waited intently for him to speak again...and eventually he did.

"You see Revan." said Lucidae in a voice barely above a whisper "I was Malleus' Master."

There was a stunned silence. Revan felt like he could have been blown over by a slight wind.

"His..._Master_?" The words seemed utterly ridiculous, but in a perverse way it made sense. Lucidae obsessiveness with the Reborn, his desire to see him dead...It all stemmed from a relationship that had gone sour. It even explained his reluctance to engage Malleus personally, and probably why he had hunted him for as long as he did.

_That's why he sent me on this mission. He couldn't bring himself to swing the killing blow._

Lucidae saw that he had left his companion dumbfounded and smiled sadly. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"No," Revan croaked, taking a step away from the Master. "It's not true...I don't believe you,"

"It is." said Lucidae, almost apologetically. "Tell me Revan, do you have someone in the Order that you consider to be your staunch friend and ally?"

Revan's thoughts flashed back to Alek and their easy camaraderie. He nodded numbly.

"Then pray what happened to me never happens to you. Nobody wants to admit that their closest friend turned against them. It is sort of a taboo in the Jedi Order, the ultimate failing of a Jedi Master. And my failing was greater than most."

Lucidae gave a sad sigh.

"Before the war, Malleus was my personal charge. He was a promising student with the gift of foresight, the rarest ability known to the the Jedi Order. And like many Masters and their students, we had developed a close bond of companionship. Therefore, he didn't hesitate in the slightest when I opted to join the cause of Ajunta Pall. But when he learnt of my intention to throw down my arms against the council, Malleus took it as a betrayal. He had gotten the notion that I had grown weak and was not worthy of a place in the new utopia. So when Ajunta Pall retreated from Republic space, my apprentice readily followed him rather than face the long cold night with my fellow kinsmen. I had thought him dead after all these millennia until...well I believe you know the rest."

Lucidae stared into sky, at the countless stars that presided over them, judging them.

"On that fateful day on Darith, I rediscovered his existence and the legacy that Ajunta Pall had imparted on his followers...but so too did he learn of me. And as recent events have shown...he was angry. I believe my former student has been plotting to punish me for my betrayal ever since."

Revan raised an eyebrow. "You believe he concocted the scheme to recruit Matarl and kill Thalia? Could his foresight have told him that much?"

"I am sure of it. What better way to punish me than to tear away dear T'shere and Mysteel, the two apprentices who I have nurtured since their childhood?"

The Master looked away from the sky and started pacing the room, brooding.

"Admittedly, I am unsure of the depths of his scheming...perhaps he even planned for me to discover the children all those years ago. I will probably never know. But Malleus wanted to hurt me...to take what I cherished most and bring them down to his level. With Mysteel, he very nearly succeeded."

Both men stayed silent for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts. Revan considered everything that the Master had said and found despite everything, he couldn't bring himself to hate the man. Although his actions had led the Jedi to be irrevocably fractured, he had done so for the best reasons...but as history had proved again and again, even the best intentions could be poisoned. Eventually, Lucidae turned and asked.

"So, now you know."

"Now I know." Revan echoed quietly.

"Do you still wish to see me punished?"

The Jedi considered the question for a moment and said. "No. But my time with you and Aethon is over."

Lucidae turned to face him directly at his news and asked "You intend to return to the Order?" to which Revan nodded.

"With the threat of Malleus and the weapon destroyed, my mission on Darith has come to an end. I will leave you and your fraternity to your affairs...but not before you relinquish all samples of the Praeconor Oblvivio and the diagnostic data you have accumulated into my custody."

Lucidae raised an eyebrow. "Is that a demand?"

"Call it...professional courtesy." said Revan quietly. "I did you a great boon by killing Malleus and saving your apprentice from further torment. If anything, you owe me."

The Master conceded the point with a nod "And what will you do if I hand over the samples you? Destroy them?"

"Not immediately. I will be keeping the _Praeconor __Oblivio_ under close scrutiny, and attempt to discover a possible remedy to this malevolent substance. As far as we know, the samples we have destroyed are not the only ones in existence, only the ones which were bartered second hand to Reeka. If more of the _Praeconor __Oblivio_ exists, I will find it. But I will trust no-one but myself to sanction this biohazard."

The Master looked thoughtful at this development. "That is a lot to ask Revan. I will have to think on this."

"Then think fast Lucidae. I will want your answer soon."

With that, Revan turned and walked away, leaving the Master to weigh his words.


	42. Chapter 42 The Decision

_Well...that was unexpected._

_-anonymous source_

* * *

As Lucidae promised, a massive funeral was arranged in honor of Aethon's fallen. It was held within the secrete underground complex Revan had attempted to reach earlier, deep under the remnants of a war torn civilization. The Hall of Heroes, colloquially known as the Vault.

The Eight, Tenth and Aethon prime were well represented at the ceremony, for many had lost comrades in arms during the battle against the Reborn. And it was not only the fighters that came. Those that served Aethon in more mundane ways, the countless people that worked as cooks, engineers and parents were also in attendance. Many had become widows or orphans during the massacre but if there was one thing that truly defined Aethon, it was their resilience. Regardless of race, gender or species, the victims were quickly amalgamated into other fraternities as one of their own. And by enduring their losses together, Aethon became stronger.

When Revan finally stepped into the site of mourning with the other supplicants, the sight took his breath away. The Jedi wasn't sure whether Lucidae had discovered the Vault or whether he had been erected the magnificent shrine personally. What he did know was that the he had never quite seen a place like it.

The Vault was _massive_, with roughly thirty sculpted floors of marble and granite. At first glance, the domed interior resembled a giant insect hive, which could have easily matched the breadth and width of Coruscant's temple. Each center of the floor ended in a circular hole which grew smaller when one went to the top. And its accruements were no less impressive. Alien armor, ancient maps, Mandalorian blades and other curiosities were encased and displayed on each level like one would expect in an art gallery. Paintings of boiling oceans and abstract dimensions, banners from long lost armies and roll calls several meters high also hung around the chamber like badges of honor.

But the most daunting feature of the Vault were the coffins. Revan saw hundreds maybe thousands of them, massive stone sarcophagi uniquely carved and designed for its occupant. The Jedi was told that each floor had walls that were chiseled with cubbyholes, allowing the sarcophagi to be stacked in rows of three. The pattern repeated in a ring, allowing the entire room to be lined with its hallowed dead. Here and there, hooded statues of pearl and marble stood as silent sentinels between the departed.

The Vault was meant to be a place of remembrance for all the Jedi and soldiers that had fallen in battle for the Republic during ages past. But to Revan, it seemed to serve as both a graveyard _and _a museum.

The funeral itself was held on the ground floor, with the hundreds of survivors waiting in silent ranks in front of a massive podium. Revan stood alongside Mandalore, Octavia and Kynes in the front rows of spectators, waiting solemnly for the events to unfold. Mysteel and T'shere took positions in the very middle of the line, garbed and shrouded in grey robes of mourning. Their youngest sister was nowhere to be seen and Revan surmised that the child still refused to accept her mother was dead.

When the appointed time came, Lucidae, walked silently to the centre of the podium. Once he was there, the Master of ceremonies gave the hundreds milling within the chamber a paternal look.

"My friends. Let us pay tribute to those that we have lost." He said in a somber voice before turning around.

The dead had been interred within their personal sarcophagi, each one lovingly chiseled with the occupant's names along with their personal heraldry. A few of the bodies had been cremated while others left whole according to the wishes of the dead's allies. Hooded figures stood silently amongst the deceased, carrying incense and chanting rites of burial in their native tongue.

At Lucidae's command, the silent helpers would lift a sarcophagus to the centre and the Master would offer a recount of that particular victim's life. During his speech, loved ones would be given a chance to walk up to the sarcophagus and give their last goodbyes in the form of tears, kisses or trinkets. When they were all done, the keepers would silently carry the honoured dead to its final resting place before bringing the next fallen to the podium.

It was during this process that Revan got an idea of why Lucidae was so respected. The man spoke with an eloquence and passion few orators in the Republic could match, painting a vivid picture of the person's life using only a few evocative words. Furthermore, Lucidae spoke as if he knew each man or woman personally, telling their story from memory and personal experience. Someone once told Revan that a good leader would never let a stranger die for them. No, those that were truly exceptional knew their own men like the back of their hand and it was clear Lucidae was someone who took the time to know his flock. Some of his stories were sad, some were funny but all were filled with heroism and valour. For what other type of person would willingly serve such a dangerous role as guardian of the Republic without any thought of recognition or reward?

The list of names remembered was long, and it took the entire day before they came to the last of the honoured dead. But this person was perhaps the most beloved of all the fallen and even Revan felt sadness as the final sarcophagus was brought up to the podium.

_Was there anyone who had a more unjust death?_

Thalia looked regal in death just as she did in life, her lifeless features emanating a haunting beauty all her own. She had been dressed in white silks of lilac, her skin cleaned to a silvery blue sheen. The Twi'lek's expression was peaceful, almost serene as if death had cleansed her of life's burdens.

"Thalia is a woman who needs no introduction, for I do not believe there is one person in our fraternity that didn't know name." Lucidae began solemnly "She came to those that were sick, mended that which needed fixing and lended an ear to those that needed comfort. In other words, she was the best of us because gave without nary a thought of reward. Suffered without a word of complaint. And lived life to the fullest with all her heart."

As Lucidae spoke, a long line of mourners walked up to the open sarcophagus to say their farewells. Kynes, Mandalore and Octavia all payed their respects silently in front of Thalia's resting place. Others placed flowers, trinkets or photos while saying a few quiet words to her peaceful form. When it was Mysteel's turn, she walked slowly to her beloved mother and placed a single flower into her resting hands. Then she fell to both knees and wept openly over her body. T'shere knelt down next to her sister, her expression obscured in shadow. She said a few quiet words which seemed to calm the Twi'lek, before leaning forward and kissing Thalia on the forehead.

"Thalia was many things in her life...a rogue, a spy, a mother but most importantly, a good person." continued Lucidae "Although not all of her actions were lawful, they were all done to help her family and those she cared about. She was a pillar of strength to everyone in Aethon, a shining example of all that was good and pure within our fraternity. Few people can truly spout such a clear conscience"

Revan was the last to day his farewells. The Jedi knelt down and looked at the serene face sadly, feeling a renewed ache in his heart. He had seen many allies perish during his relatively short tenure as a Jedi, but none were as painful as this loss. Despite their short acquaintance, the woman had impressed Revan with her unique history and hidden strength.

"I couldn't save you," Revan whispered to Thalia. He took Thalia's right hand and gently pressed his lips against it. Then he produced the Twi'lek's ebon mask and gently wrapped her fingers around it.

"But I will make sure your legacy live on,"

With that, the Jedi got up slowly and walked away. When he had left the podium, Lucidae finished his recount.

"Sadly, this amazing woman's life was cut short, killed by a traitor who took advantage of her helping nature. I will not sully Thalia's memory with words of this vile being other than to say that justice has been dispensed. And that she can rest peacefully now that her death has been avenged."

The Master paused momentarily to steady his own voice.

"But even though Thalia has departed this mortal coil, her legacy lives on. We must remember the kindness that she brought to others, her selflessness and her courage. And as fellow protectors of this realm, Aethon must always strive to emulate her example."

The Master bowed his head then and intoned solemnly.

"In her name"

"In her name," echoed the rest of the hall.

The keepers began to move the sarcophagus away but not into one of the waiting cubbyholes. At Mysteel's request, Thalia's sarcophagus would be prepared for transport back to Ryloth so that she could rest with her own kind. When the Twi'lek was gone, Lucidae turned back to the crowd and finished the rites of mourning.

"And so we say goodbye to our friends and comrades as they become one with the Force, for only in death does duty end. Even though the galaxy at large does not know them, the Republic owes the fallen a debt that can never be repaid."

The Master paused.

"But we know...and we must alway remember their sacrifice lest their lives be lost in vain. For the Republic will never lack for enemies. In this darkest of times, we who presume to be its protectors must always remember. And as long as one of us remains to carry on their legacy, the Republic will endure...now and forever.

Lucidae finished by bowing his head humbly and said.

"Thank you my friends. Force be with you. Force be with you all."

* * *

Life in Aethon returned to a semblance of normality after the funeral. Out of respect for the grieving survivors, Revan did not broach the subject of the weapon to Lucidae. Instead he spent the next few days resting and recuperating his strength. During that time, he saw an influx of fresh faces around the hallways, men and women who had been transported off world to replenish Aethon's losses. Revan didn't know where these people came from, but he began to appreciate just how extensive Lucidae's network must have been to in order to recover his numbers so quickly.

Revan's was summoned on the third day when Kynes walked into his chambers. He noticed that sniper was deprived of her usual combat gear, wearing only a pistol and thin bodysuit that left very little to the imagination. She also had a look on her face that seemed more curious than her usual placid demeanor.

"Lucidae wants to talk to you," she said without preamble.

Revan nodded to himself. The Master had probably come to a decision on the weapon. "Did he say why?" the Jedi asked, just to make sure.

"Yes," she replied. Rather than elaborating, she turned and walked away from the door.

Revan shrugged and followed her out. As they made their way down the hallway, the Jedi noticed that no one was trying to 'escorting' him like the first time he had stumbled into Aethon's base of operations. Evidently, the people here trusted him enough now that he could go where he pleased, a thought that Revan found oddly comforting.

_Small victories I suppose._

He also noticed that the sniper was darting her eyes in his direction every so often like she wanted to say something but never did, something that irritated him to no end.

"What is it?" he asked when the pair reached the elevators leading down to Lucidae's laboratory. Kynes shrugged the question away.

"I'm...surprised I suppose." said she who infamously devoid of any emotion. Revan briefly wondered whether Kynes had experienced some sort of nerve trauma on her face earlier in life that rendered the sniper unable to convey any other feeling than irritation.

"About what?"

"You'll find out," she answered noncommittally. Revan shook his head in annoyance and walked the rest of the way to the laboratory in silence. Eventually they came to the familiar set of circular doors leading into Lucidae's inner sanctum. The sniper rattled through the security protocols and the set of blast doors hissed open. She gestured for the Jedi to enter although she made no move to do so herself.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said in a doubtful voice before walking back the way they came.

Revan didn't bother to reply and made his way through the clutter of machinery. The lab was much like he remembered, stacked with papers, cylinders filled with amniotic fluid and working droids. He found Lucidae sitting in his throne, next to Mysteel and a group of people in lab coats. The venerable Master was listening intently to a report from the scientists with hooded eyes, one hand underneath his chin. Mysteel on the other hand, didn't seem to be paying the slightest bit of attention so Revan felt it odd that the Twi'lek was here at all.

At the Jedi's approach, Lucidae looked up and nodded at his attendants.

"We will discuss this later. Have all the data uploaded to my terminal before the end of the day," the Master bade them. The group of men gave a short bow and took their leave.

"You've decided?" asked Revan once they were out of earshot.

"Yes," The master affirmed. "Mysteel and I have had several interesting discussions with other members of Aethon over the past few days. They helped me reach a decision."

The Master gestured to a nearby chair. As Revan walked up to it, he noticed Mysteel was looking at him anxiously much like Kynes did earlier on. Something in the back of Revan's mind told him that nothing good could come of that.

_Do they plan to renege on their deal?_

The Jedi suddenly felt a lot more wary, and he wished he had his lightsaber again. Unfortunately he no longer possessed the necessary tools to assemble a new one, with most of his equipment destroyed during his battle with Malleus. Once the Jedi settled into his chair cautiously, the Master leaned forward in his throne and said.

"I will grant your request and hand over all my research regarding the _Praeconor__Oblivio_and the remaining samples into your care. On one condition,"

_Here __it __comes..._the Jedi thought, tensing. Revan should have known beforehand that the Master would try to wheedle in some favor into these negotiations. Jedi were master manipulators after all. But Revan knew all the tricks of the trade and would not be swayed from his course.

_If he wants me to kill someone else, he can bloody well do it himself._

Lucidae looked him straight in the eye and said.

"I want you to bring Mysteel back to the Order with you."

A period of silence followed.

At first, Revan simply blinked. Then he gave a bark of laughter as he processed the words, quite sure that Lucidae was making a jest. That mirth was short live however when he saw Mysteel's earnest expression and realized to his horror that the Master wasn't joking at all.

"You're..._serious_?" Revan gasped.

"Very,"

He turned to Mysteel, eyes widening in disbelief.

"You want to become a Jedi Knight?" he asked her, scarcely believing the words coming out his mouth.

The Twi'lek nodded enthusiastically, her hopeful expression brightening. The Jedi stared at her glassily for several seconds, looking like he had been struck dumb.

"...Why?" he asked eventually

Mysteel and Lucidae chuckled, evidently amused by their guest's mixture of incredulity and horror. "Is it really so surprising?" Lucidae asked "Knighthood is something that I have groomed Mysteel for since she was a child, to steel her soul and body for that burden. With T'shere, I could never quite get her to leave the demons of her past behind. But Mysteel...I know she is ready now. Her decision to spare Matarl has proven to me that she is prepared to follow the Jedi path."

Seeing Revan's shellshocked expression, Mysteel reached out and took his hands into her own.

"Rev, I know know this is a lot to ask, but this is something I've wanted for some time." she said in an earnest voice. "Hell, I've wanted to be part of the Order ever since I learned to swing a lightsaber. I mean sure, I learned their teachings, but I was never a part of them. But now, Lucidae is finally giving me that chance to be part of something great...that is, if you say yes?"

The Twi'lek ended her plea with a nervous smile while her beautiful sapphire eyes bored into him pleadingly. It was a look employed by little girls and cute animals everywhere to melt the hearts of their victims so they could get what they want. Revan didn't know what to say. He felt like his brain had _literally_ shut down at the sheer absurdity of the request. Mysteel a Jedi? He could think of several things that should have been more likely. A starship made of fruit for example...

Revan supposed he should have felt less surprised than he did at this outlandish request. He _did_ remember Mysteel's enthusiasm about learning about Coruscant and her wish to visit the heart of the Republic. But still... Just the thought of Mysteel interacting with one of the surly Masters of the Order was enough to send shudders through his spine.

_If she steps into any of the temple grounds, the galaxy would probably implode._

So the Jedi tried to think of a reason, _anything_ that he could say to dissuade that possibility. "If she leaves, then Aethon will undergo major changes." he stuttered "Have you considered the ramifications?"

Lucidae did not seem concerned.

"There should be no significant difference to the command structure, save one. T'shere and the rest of Aethon's hierarchy will remain largely as they were. But I have decided that Thalia's daughter will depart our company shortly as well."

"You mean to send her home permanently?" Mysteel asked in a surprised voice. Lucidae nodded.

"A mobile war-band is no place for such a young child, as events have aptly proven. In a few days, I will have a small detachment of soldiers send her and Thalia's body back to her home planet of Ryloth. Where her true kin reside."

Revan raised an eyebrow.

"From what Thalia told me, her kindred were a pack of thieves. Will she be any safer there?"

"Her relatives are less than reputable, it is true." Lucidae conceded "But Twi'leks do look out for their own. And Thalia believed that the most important thing in this galaxy was family. So in accordance to that wish, the child will reunited amongst her kindred."

"Are you sure that's a good idea Master?" Mysteel asked, a worried crease forming on her forehead. "I mean, I agree with mom about family but..."

The Master gave her a knowing smile. "Are you worried that her half brother would do her harm? Don't worry, the son is not the father. Not yet at least."

The Twi'lek shook her head, "It's not that. I mean, I don't know the kid that well. But what if..."

"Matarl somehow escapes and finds them?" Lucidae finished, not unkindly.

Mysteel nodded uncertainly. "Don't get me wrong. I know the chances of him escaping are close to zero, now that he's little more than a drooling monster. But when we think him dead and buried, Matarl always seems to find a way to rear his ugly head. And like the bastard demonstrated before, no place is truly safe from him. Not from Aethon, our home world...nowhere."

Lucidae mused over the question for few seconds. "Well, hypothetically, if Matarl were to somehow break free, there are places we could funnel her where even the most savage monster could not reach. Planets like Taris where the bounty price for him is so high, Matarl would be dead even before he could set foot on their soil."

Mysteel looked grey at the prospect of sending her little sister to a death world. Lucidae gave her a reassuring smile to show he didn't mean it.

"Don't worry little one. I'm sure it will not come to that. But back to the matter at hand..."

The Master then turned back to their guest and asked. "What say you Revan. Do you agree to my offer?"

"I..."

Revan hesitated and glanced at Mysteel, who had resumed staring at him with that starry eyed gaze. If he simply said no, her spirit would be crushed. And the last thing he wanted was another distraught Twi'lek. The Jedi brought both hands to his face and rubbed his forehead, trying to find some way to reject the proposal without hurting anybody's feelings.

_This is absurd, but what can I say? Sorry Mysteel, I think you're too crazy to become a Jedi Knight. And you don't want to know what the Masters would think of you..._

"You still seem surprised." Lucidae commented, seeing the Jedi's reluctance. "Do you not think she is not equal to the task? You've seen her abilities. Despite my pupil's...lively personality, her skill is better than almost any I have seen. She will be a great addition to the Order"

The Master put a hand on Mysteel's shoulder as he said this and the Twi'lek blushed with pride at the compliment.

"I do not doubt her prowess." said Revan quickly, shaking his head. "But even after everything that happened between you and the council...what happened to T'shere, you still want to send one of your students to their care?"

Lucidae nodded solemnly. "Yes. While I see certain elements of institution as venal and corrupt, I do not hate the Order Revan. I recognize it as an essential organ of the Republic and that it is only as pure as the members who lead it. And now with its numbers depleted more than ever, the Republic _needs_ Jedi Knights. Even one person will make all the difference in the galaxy. Most importantly, I want Mysteel to be know the camaraderie, the brotherhood of being in the Jedi Order...its most defining strength."

Before Revan could comment, Lucidae took a thin grey disk from inside his robes

"Here, give this to the council when you see them." the Master bade, pressing the thin piece of metal into his hand. "The message is a personal entreaty to accept Mysteel as a full fledged Jedi Knight with my full recommendation. "

Revan stared at the data pad. It was true that the Order was severely undermanned. Most of the veteran Jedi Knights had been wiped out in the last war leaving warriors that were either too green or too old. The Order had been forced to recluse themselves over the years, focusing on training new recruits to replenish their ranks. Unfortunately, they were still years away from making any significant headway in approaching their pre civil war numbers. A skilled warrior, immediately ready for assignment would be welcome indeed. But still...

"Even if I do agree to this, I'm not sure Mysteel would even be allowed beyond the temple's front gates." Revan said eventually. "Not only is she technically over age for induction into the Order, she is associated with you. And from what I have gleaned after the disaster with T'shere, the Council distrusts you immensely."

"That is true." Lucidae conceded "But I have a feeling that my past history with the council will not be important. Vandar has already agreed to my proposal in principle. All he has to do is grease the wheels, so to speak."

Revan's eyes wider in surprise at Lucidae's words.

"You know him?" he asked incredulously. Revan still didn't know how much contact Lucidae maintained with the Order, but if he knew Vandar personally, then he was well connected indeed.

"Of course. I know everyone on the council." replied Lucidae calmly. "Vandar is my personal liaison back on Coruscant. We have a cordial if wary working relationship. I tell the good Master of my findings within the fringes of Republic space while I learn about the developments in the galactic core from him. He is my eyes and ears so to speak."

Revan's eyes narrowed "You make him sound like your spy," He remarked.

"Nothing so consiprational." said Lucidae with a smile. "We help each other, to the mutual benefit of Aethon and the Jedi Order."

Revan was suddenly struck with the uncomfortable thought that the timing between his expulsion into the Outer Rim and his meeting with Lucidae was more than just coincidence. Could it be that Vandar had secretly arranged these chain of events?

"Did he...did he tell you about my arrival on Darith?" he asked warily. Lucidae shook his head.

"No...But your name has come up in many of our conversations." the Master paused slightly before adding.

"Or at least the name the council gave you."

Revan felt the blood drain from his face.

"You know?" he croaked, before turning an accusing glare to the Twi'lek who promptly looked down at her feet.

"Yes, I know." Lucidae said solemnly. Seeing the look on Revan's face, he quickly added. "Mysteel didn't tell me. I knew about your unique condition even before we met."

The Master reached out and placed a hand on Revan's shoulder.

"And you have my condolences. When the council erased your mind and moulded it into their own tool, they took away a part of your soul. Vandar confided in me that the Masters agonized for weeks before they decided to induct the most promising of their students into this special program. But being a leader sometimes means you must make the harshest decisions, like cutting a leg off to save a patient. In your case, they needed to remove your past so they could ensure the Order's future. And while I do not condone this practice...I understand why they did it. I hope you can see it as well."

Revan heard the words but could barely process their meaning. Lucidae knew! And apparently, he had even discussed his condition with Vandar extensively! At that moment, one of the questions that had been gnawing at the back of his mind like a cancer came to the forefront.

"Did Vandar mention...who I was...before I was changed?" Revan asked, his voice parchment dry. The Jedi was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Lucidae hesitated for a moment, as if trying to discern the best course of action.

"He did." the Master said eventually, and Revan's heart fluttered. "If it is your wish to know about your past, I think you have earned the right. But I must warn you...some doors should just remain closed. Do you wish me for me to divulge your true identity?"

The Jedi's first impulse was an emphatic yes. Of course he wanted to know! How else would he re-establish his identity and sense of self worth?

"I think you should do it Rev," Mysteel said earnestly. "at the very least, you can make peace with who you were,"

Revan nodded in thanks for her support. But even as he tried to say it, the words died on his tongue.

_Even if I did know...could I go back to that life?_

At an instinctive level, Revan knew that it was impossible. Being anchored with the knowledge of what he had lost...it wouldn't change anything. In fact, it might even make him feel worse. Revan had come to understand that part of the reason he was so deadly in battle was _because_ he possessed a sense of disconnect. Since the Jedi's past was no more than a blurry set of dreams and images, Revan was unsullied by doubt, desire or a need to prove himself. If he regained that knowledge...Revan would no longer be the person he was now. And if Ludidae corroborated his past, then the girl in his dreams would become nothing more than a shadow in his memory once and for all.

Revan didn't want that to happen. Like Lucidae, he couldn't bring himself to make the killing blow on something that he cherished. So after weighing all the pros and cons, the Jedi came to a decision.

"No." he said quietly

Mysteel looked surprised and Lucidae raised an eyebrow. "Truly?"

"Truly." Revan said in a firm voice. "It is like you said. Who I was... What I've been...those things are better not to know because it would be selfish in light of the state of the galaxy. When the Masters moulded my mind, they locked away all my hidden desires and doubts, thereby making me immune to all the potential fallacies Jedi are especially susceptible to. And if stripping me of my identity is a means to bring peace to the galaxy...I think that is a small price to pay."

"It cheers me to know that there are still men of integrity in this galaxy." said Lucidae, squeezing Revan's shoulder and giving him a wan smile. Mysteel looked less pleased.

"Well...if that's what you think is best." she said sadly. The Twi'lek shuffled anxiously in her seat then and asked. "So...?"

Revan gave her a long measuring look, thinking back to the matter at hand. The Jedi tried to think of any more reasons to reject Lucidae's proposal and found himself out of excuses. Revan realized his objections to Mysteel joining came more out of instinctive fear at how her unorthodox personality would clash with the more conservative elements of the Order than any rational basis. In reality, Mysteel was skilled_,_ courageous and disciplined, possessing all the qualities to make an excellent Jedi. She had been exposed to great tragedy, yet possessed the discipline to resist temptation in order to satisfy her darker urges. And at the end of the day, that was what mattered most.

_Force __take __me_. _I'm __probably __going __to __regret __this..._

Revan took a deep breath and said. "I agree to Lucidae's terms. You will be departing with me back to Coruscant as soon as it is convenient."

Mysteel's face transformed into an expression of pure joy, something he had not seen for some time. "Oh Rev, you've just made me the happiest girl in the galaxy! Thank you. Thank you!"

She flung herself at the surprised Jedi, spilling papers and chairs as they crashed bodily onto the floor. The Twi'lek then proceeded to thank him over and over again while crushing him in a bear hug, despite the Jedi's attempts to twist away. Lucidae chuckled softly at the comical scene, making no attempt to stop his student. Eventually Revan managed to push himself to arm's length from the clingy Twi'lek.

"Make no mistake Mysteel." Revan said in a winded voice. "If you come with me back to the Order and take your vows, it cannot be taken back. You will be forever bound to their service. By swearing an oath, you will pledge your life, your every waking moment to the safety and protection of the Republic. Also, you cannot marry or bear children, for duty and honor will be your husband." He gave her a critical look. "Are you willing to make that sacrifice?"

"Of course!" Mysteel exclaimed immediately, then blinked and corrected herself after realizing what the question was.

"I mean, I guess marriage was never really an option for a girl like me...but I'll still get to see my family, right?"

Revan considered the question for a moment.

"Normally, a Jedi is cut off from any familial ties...but yours is a unique case. Perhaps your path with Aethon will cross again when we are fighting amongst the stars."

Mysteel smiled in relief, her teeth glinting under the light like pearls. "That's all I ask for,"

"It is settled then," Lucidae said, smiling warmly. "Mysteel will return with you to take her vows and ascend to become a Jedi Knight." the Master took his pupil gently by the hand and helped her off the floor.

"Congratulations young one. You're going to be a Jedi Knight. I am so proud of you."

Mysteel laughed and embraced her Master even tighter than Revan. She swirled him around a couple of times until the Master grew dizzy and asked her to stop.

"Well," Lucidae said in a mildly disoriented voice after she had set him down. "I believe you have some preparations to make."

"Ooooh, this is so exciting!" Mysteel gushed, looking positively giddy. "I have to pack my things! Get my makeup! Figure out what to wear on my first day! I-"

Revan let Mysteel ramble on for a few seconds before remarking.

"I'm surprised that everyone took this decision so well. Especially your sister."

As soon as he said those words, the jovial atmosphere evaporated. Lucidae coughed delicately and Mysteel's stopped ranting, her tentacles slumping to her sides.

"Oh right, ...that..." she said in a worried voice, her excitement deflating like a balloon.

"Well, the thing is...I might have ah, 'neglected' to tell T'shere that I was leaving."

"You're saying you never even _mentioned_ this momentous decision to T'shere?" Revan gasped in disbelief. "I thought you spent the past few days talking extensively with everyone to reach an understanding."

The Twi'lek looked at her feet sheepishly.

"Well...I guess I was so excited about the prospect of going to Coruscant, I forgot to talk to her about it when I told everyone else."

Revan wasn't fooled for a moment. "You mean you were scare how she would react when you told her you were going to the same place that kicked her out." He observed dryly.

"...That too." Mysteel said guiltily. Seeing the look of concern on Revan's face, Mysteel said quickly.

"Oh well, I'm sure when I explain why I'm going, she'll understand. I mean, she _is_ reasonable."

The reassuring smile she gave Revan left him far from convinced. He gave Lucidae a look that said.

_This will mean blood in the gutters._

* * *

As he anticipated, a disturbance broke out during that very night. The Jedi had been dozing lightly when the distant crack of pottery alerted him to trouble.

_I should probably just ignore it. This is something Aethon has to resolve for themselves._

But against his better judgment, Revan got out of bed and walked down the halls to track down the source of the disturbance.

The Jedi didn't have to look hard for the scene of carnage. He simply followed the unending tirade of profanity and exploding furniture echoing across the hallway to the point where it was loudest. He found a group of Widowmakers already assembled outside of what was presumably T'shere's room. They had their weapons drawn out but seemed reluctant to barge in and stop the commotion. Kynes was in front of the door, listening to the violent conversation with an uncharacteristically concerned expression. When she saw the Jedi approach, the marksman said,

"I had a feeling this would happen...I just never thought it would go this badly."

"How bad?" Revan inquired.

"Listen for yourself," Kynes moved away from the door to give him room. Revan leaned close and pressed his ear to the metal. The screaming suddenly became much more coherent. And none of it was good.

"Get out! Out!" he heard T'shere shriek. "I never want to see you again!"

The Arkanian's voice was hysterical, filled with a mixture of grief and rage. Mysteel's voice was no less shrill. "T'shere _please_. Just listen to me for a moment!"

"Why?" T'shere snarled "So you can stick another dagger into my heart? I should have known you were going to betray me!"

"It's not a _betrayal_!" Mysteel pleaded. "You know that being a Jedi is something I've always wanted to do! Why can't you just be happy for me, now that I have the chance?"

"Because you're being an _idiot_!" T'shere shouted back. "The Jedi Order is a lie Mysteel! A glamor! A fantasy! Lucidae filled your pretty little head with lies and now, you're running to go to your own funeral!"

Mysteel seemed to take offense to this.

"Don't say that!" Revan heard her snap. "Just because a few people wronged you doesn't make the entire Order bad!"

The Twi'lek's voice became more distant as her footsteps took her away from the door. Revan pressed his ear closer and strained to hear the conversation. To his annoyance, Kynes and all the other Widowmakers had pressed close behind him to eavesdrop as well.

"And how do you know what happened to me won't happen to you?" T'shere snapped, in an equally faded voice. "You think the Order will just accept you with open arms, no questions asked? If so, then you're a greater fool than I thought!"

"Well at least I don't have to explain why I beat an initiate to death!"Mysteel fumed angrily.

Revan thought he heard T'shere say "How dare you." but the sound was too soft. He pressed his ear even closer to the door, hoping to catch the conversation again. Unfortunately, the entire group had been so busy listening to the sisters argue that they didn't notice the door's hinges creaking open as their combined weighed proved too much to handle.

Without warning, the door swung open and spilled the entire group into the room with squawks of surprise. They fell into an undignified mass of tangled limbs in front a very surprised Twi'lek and Arkanian. Revan glanced up to a room that looked like it had been subjected to a hurricane. Books, broken mugs and splintered wood lay scattered in a minefield of debris while T'shere glared daggers at the intruders with molten eyes.

"S-sorry ma'am." stuttered one of the soldiers as they began to pick themselves up sheepishly. "We were ah- testing the structural integrity of this door" The Arkanian was not amused.

"What kind of idiots-" she began before catching sight of Revan. Once T'shere saw the real target of her ire, her eyes narrowed in hatred and she pointed a finger directly at the Jedi's face.

"You!" The Arkanian spat venomously. "You did this! You've corrupted my sister and turned her against me! Against Aethon!"

Mysteel looked like she was ready to pull out her proverbial hair.

"Force, not this again!" she shouted in disgust. "When will you stop blaming Revan for every single thing that doesn't go your way! For the last fucking time, this is my choice! My life!"

"And I'm telling you it's a stupid one!" T'shere retorted, whipping her head back to her sister. "If you don't believe me, just ask Lucidae!"

Mysteel stood defiant against her sister's accusation. "Who do you think suggested I go in the first place?"

Th Arkanian looked more surprised than outraged at her response. "No."she gasped. "He wouldn't!"

"Yes he would!" her sister said angrily "Lucidae supports me! And if mother was still alive, she would too!"

At the mention of Thalia, T'shere's face hardened and she gave a bitter laugh. "If mother were still alive, she would take my side! Family comes first Mysteel! Or have you forgotten that?"

"No, of course not!" the Twi'lek replied outraged, her tentacles curling in anger. "How can you say that? You know I've always worked to protect my family!"

"Then stay here and do your _bloody __job_!"

"My _job _is to prevent the Republic from collapsing." said Mysteel hotly, struggling to keep her temper. "And that's what Aethon does, what we have always done. I'm just going to be doing it somewhere else now."

Seeing that she wasn't getting anywhere with her obstinate sister, Mysteel turned and looked at the man that had started this chain of events. "Rev, say something! Talk some damn sense into her! Tell her I should go and become a Jedi!"

Revan felt like slapping his head as Mysteel dragged him unwillingly into the verbal arena. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in this volatile argument.

_Because, that's what I need. Another excuse for T'shere to kill me. _

The entire room was staring at was looking at him with imploring eyes, while T'shere looked like she was a hair's width from carving him a new bunghole. Kynes and her Widowmakers looked like they wanted to find a nice spot to sit and enjoy the show.

"I-" Revan started, before trailing off into silence. What could he possibly say that would make this better? T'shere hated him, hated everything _about_ him...but that was partly because of what he represented.

_The Order. She hates me above all else because she sees me as one of the people that abandoned her._

The logical thing to do then was to dispel her assumptions. But that would mean letting T'shere know about his secret. Letting _everyone_ know.

_Fine_ he thought grimly. _I __am __sick __to __death __of __hiding __my __shame._

After taking a deep breath, Revan said "T'shere. You and I...we are more alike than you know."

T'shere seemed to take offense with that remark. "We have nothing in common Revan, you hear me?" she hissed "_Nothing_."

"I know one thing we have in common." Revan replied solemnly "We are both outcasts."

Everyone besides Mysteel looked surprised, especially the Arkanian.

"What in blazes are you babbling about?" she snapped.

"I am an outcast T'shere, the same as you." repeated Revan calmly, locking his gaze with the Arkanian "I did something extreme...something that led to a fellow member of the Order being severely injured. In my mind it was justified, but the council thought otherwise. They exiled me and sent me out to Darith to atone for my sins."

He paused momentarily to see what effect his remark had. T'shere was looking warily at him but otherwise did not try to inject a scathing response. Seeing that he was getting somewhere, the Jedi continued.

"What I'm trying to say is that I can understand your feelings about the Order. Although our circumstances are different, I understand what it feels like to be discarded, the injustice of being wrongly condemned. And most importantly, I understand that burning shame of having the thing you trusted the most turn their back from you."

The look Revan had on his face when he admitted this was infinitely tired and pained. Mysteel came up behind him and gave his shoulder a supporting squeeze. After a moment, he found the strength to continue.

"During my time here with Aethon, I came to realize that some things are simply beyond our control. But doesn't mean we shouldn't keep trying to make things right. And I'd like to think that we did. A little at least."

The Jedi lapsed into silence. The rest of the room had become quiet as well. Most of them looked sympathetically at the disgraced Jedi. Even Kynes looked to have mellowed in the face of his admission. As for T'shere...For a moment, she almost..._almost _looked like she had some empathy for him. But the moment of weakness passed quickly and her face twisted back into a rictus of rage.

"Liar. _Liar!"_She hissed,_"_I don't believe you!"

The Arkanian looked like she was going to stalk up and punch Revan, but Mysteel stepped in front of the Jedi at the last moment, hands raised in a warding gesture.

"No it's true! Lucidae confirmed it!" Mysteel said as she struggled to hold her sister back. "Revan got kicked out of the Order, because he did something piss off the Council. Just like you."

With those words, Mysteel finally managed to break through T'shere's red miasma of rage. The Arkanian stopped struggling and looked at her sibling straight in the eye. Mysteel took a deep breath and continued.

"But he's going back now after completing his mission of repentance. Because even though the Order turned their back on him, he still wants to do the right thing."

The Twi'lek cupped her sister's face in both hands and said.

"Now at I have that chance...how can I do any less?"

Seeing Mysteel's determined look seemed to seep out all remaining strength from the Arkanian. "You-you promised that you would never leave me." she said in a trembling voice. "And now you're doing just that."

"This isn't a goodbye sis." Mysteel said gently, her own eyes suddenly welling with tears. "It's not like I go to the Jedi Order and suddenly, I'll disappear forever. We'll see each other again, I promise"

Mysteel tried to reached out and embrace T'shere, but the Arkanian wouldn't have any of it. She recoiled and pushed Mysteel away.

"Lies!" she hissed, eyes blazing with renewed anger "Admit it! The real reason you want to leave Aethon is so that you can escape your responsibilities and go on some-some stupid adventure!"

She pointed an accusing finger at the surprised Twi'lek.

"Well let me tell you something Mysteel. The Order will fuck you. It will fuck you hard without any concern for your hopes and dreams. And when it's done with you, it'll toss your pretty ass off the bed without nary a second thought and invite the next poor sod under the covers who buys into their hypocritical drivel!"

Mysteel's face twisted into a mask of shock and betrayal, the words cutting deep into her patient psyche. The Twi'lek had built a considerable tolerance from years of enduring her sister's constant verbal abuse. But this was too much. And for the first and last time, Mysteel fought back against T'shere.

"Shut up!" she screamed _"Shut __the __fuck __up! __I'm __so __sick __of __your __bull shit! __You're __just __jealous __because __I'm __good __enough __to __be __a __Jedi, __and __you're __not!"_

Silence.

Everyone was muted by the sheer vitriol of the remark. One of the soldiers dropped their weapons and Kynes' jaw actually dropped. But it was T'shere who looked absolutely shellshocked. Defiance was not a dish she tasted often, especially not from her own sister. The flush had drained completely from the Arkanian's face, replaced by a pale dead pallor. Somehow, her eerie silence was more disturbing than her unbridled rage.

When she realized what she had done, Mysteel gasped and covered her mouth, but it was too late. The damage from her words had been done. No one dared to break the brittle tension, the eerie silence drawing out into an unbearable crescendo.

"Sis, I'm so sorry." Mysteel whispered eventually in a trembling voice. "I didn't mean it that way-"

"You are not my sister," T'shere said coldly, turning her back from the teary eyed Twi'lek.

"You say you want to be a Jedi Knight? Fine. Go, and be the best that you can be. But the next time we meet, I'll kill you."


	43. Chapter 43 The End

_Don't ever change_

_-Revan_

* * *

Despite attempts by Lucidae and several mutual friends for reconciliation, Mysteel and T'shere refused to speak to each other from that night on. It saddened many to see two of the most recognizable faces in Aethon at each other's throats, especially after all the hardships they had endured together. But in the grand scheme of things, their argument changed nothing for Mysteel was still resolved to leave for Coruscant and take her vows. So a day after the incident, she told Revan that they could leave as soon as it was convenient for him to do so. (Or in her own words: 'as soon as fucking possible.')

Revan was perfectly fine with that, and the Jedi went ahead to make the necessary preparations for departure, while telling Mysteel to do the same. First and foremost, he transferred all relevant files regarding the _Praeconor Oblivio_ from Lucidae's databanks and stored the remaining samples into special transportation capsules. Then with Kyne's consent, he traveled to Darith's central star port to secure his transportation.

As his benefactor had promised, Revan found a ship registered under his name in one of the hangar bays, just waiting for him to take. And the sight of it took his breath away.

_Well...it looks like I got an upgrade. _Revan thought when he first laid eyes on it.

According to the port's manifest, the ship the Watcher had given him was designated the _Deliverance_, which the Jedi thought was dully apt. And while he could appreciate the Watcher's black humor, what truly fascinated him was the vessel itself. After a cursory inspection, Revan discovered that the vessel possessed features similar to the _Alpha Wing_, but with subtle differences. Like his former mode of transportation, this one was slaved to his voice and the aviation controls fit his memory to a tee. But unlike the _Alpha Wing_, this one was dark like a raven's wing, with sleeker contours and a narrower chassis. The ship also possessed several distinguishing upgrades including an improved weapons arsenal, triple reinforced hull, automated repair unit, much more powerful thrusters, secondary shielding and a cloaking field that would not only obscure the ship's energy output, but visually as well.

It was, by any definition a very powerful asset, which the Watcher had apparently bequeathed to him as a reward for a job well done. And while the Jedi could appreciate his new toy, he couldn't help but feel that there was an unspoken promise that came with this prize...something that went along the lines of _you owe me. _But he didn't have time to dwell on the hidden implications right now. All that mattered right now was that he was going home.

* * *

When he had secured his cargo and made sure the ship was prepped for launch, Revan sent a message to Mysteel, telling her to meet him discreetly at his ship's coordinates once she was ready to leave. This proved quicker than he expected as the Twi'lek actually showed up at the hangar bay in less than an hour.

"Wow Rev..." said Mysteel, blowing an appreciative whistle as she met him at the base of the magnificent ship.

"If I knew all Jedi got such cool toys, I would have joined up sooner."

"Are you ready to go then?" Revan inquired. The Twi'lek nodded with a smile.

"Yep. Right after I finish saying goodbye to everyone."

"Everyone?" echoed Revan, before his eyes widened at the crowd of red and black suddenly flooding into the hangar bay. Soldiers, parents, children... virtually everyone who knew the Twi'lek seemed to be appearing behind her in force. And from what he knew, that was pretty much the entirety of Aethon.

"Something wrong?" Mysteel asked innocently, noticing Revan's surprised expression as he surveyed the oncoming procession.

"How did all of you get in here? Doesn't Reeka have a bounty on Aethon?" he asked in a troubled voice. The Jedi knew the group was well known as a terrorist organization around Darith. And Reeka's security would not have simply allowed so many of Aethon's followers to march straight into his tightly controlled port without any resistance at all.

"Oh, well funny thing." Said Mysteel with an odd look. "Kynes said the bounty Reeka put on our heads was called off earlier"

"Why?"

"Because Reeka's dead."

"Dead?" the Jedi echoed in a shocked voice. "When? How?"

Mysteel shrugged. "A day after we returned back to Darith actually. It's all pretty confusing, but Aethon's data sniffers say that the bloated slug was found cut up into several chunks. Some of him was found in his harem...others scattered in his animal pens. A couple of his guards even claim they found chunks of suspicious green meat in their soup! Well long story short, nobody's been around to keep the mercenaries in line now that Reeka's gone. And with a power vacuum in Darith just waiting to be filled, none of the other petty crime lords are bothering with us at the moment."

Revan frowned at this disturbing piece of news. _The Watcher…It had to be him. This has his fingerprints all over it. _

If anyone could have pulled off such a hit, it was him. The Watcher _did_ say he was going to track down the source of the weapon, Why he ended up killing the slug, Revan couldn't say for sure, but he suspected it was to tie up any loose ends with Reeka's connection to the original sellers. But to kill a notorious crimelord, in his own fortress no less…If the Jedi ever held any lingering doubts as to his benefactor's influence, they were gone now. Still…

_I'm going to have to tread lightly with that one. _Revan thought darkly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand..namely the hundred odd people crowding his hangar bay.

"Couldn't you have said goodbye to them at base?" he asked the Twi'lek ruefully. The Jedi had planned to send a parting communique to Lucidae _after_ reaching orbit, and the last thing he wanted now was another ceremony.

"Oh, it wouldn't have been the same. " replied Mysteel with a wink. "Besides, I needed someone to carry all my clothes. I have a lot of clothes."

Revan shook his head in resignation. He suspected Mysteel just wanted to make the most dramatic departure possible. If the Twi'lek liked anything, it was a great scene. Regardless of the reason, Aethon was here, and they were all intent on saying goodbye.

And did they ever. Whether it was a hug, a parting gift or even just a few kind words, Mysteel was soon undated from all sides by people who wished her well, for the Twi'lek was truly the heart and soul of Aethon's fraternity.

_They love her like they love their own children. _Revan thought not without admiration as he saw the procession of sobbing people taking turns to squeeze the life out of the increasingly breathless girl.

_I guess Aethon really is a family..._

Mysteel didn't get all the attention of the corner of his eye, Revan saw two familiar killing machines approach him while server droids loaded Mysteel's prodigious luggage into the Jedi's newly minted ship. Mandalore and Octavia had actually delayed further deployment with the rest of their companies in order to say their farewells, something that the Jedi found oddly touching and unsettling at the same time.

Mandalore was the first to speak as the pair approached. "If you die before we meet again, I will hunt your wretched corpse down and piss on it." The metal clad warrior said bluntly. "The honor of your death is reserved for me."

"Of course." replied Revan coolly. "Although I think I'll wait until you've regained leadership of the clans before I issue a challenge. I wouldn't want to fight you while you're still handicapped."

Mandalore grunted in amusement. Then in a surprisingly candid moment, the Mandalorian slammed his fist across his massive chest in salute to the Jedi, one of the greatest honors he had ever bestowed to an outsider. Revan titled his head in acknowledgment and the Mandalorian walked away without another word. Next, Octavia stepped up in front of him, the machine baleful red lenses whirring and clicking. The Jedi got the sense the deadly droid was recording this transaction, although for what reason he could not say.

"I've never liked you human." Octavia stated eventually "In fact, I believe it is fair to say that I hated you the moment you sauntered onto my ship."

_Your ship? _Revan thought with mild amusement but kept silent, sensing that the giant machine had more to say.

"But..." Octavia said after a long pause. "after the events that have transpired...I think I hate you a little less,"

"That's the nicest thing a droid has ever said to me," said Revan with a faint smile.

"You only get one," replied Octavia. With that, the droid stalked off and disappeared amongst the milling crowd. Revan turned and spotted Kynes, who had at some point started leaning against his new ship. The woman was looking at him with her typically inscrutable stare, something that still made him distinctly uncomfortable. Revan prided himself on being able to read most people's ticks, but he admitted Kynes was one of the tougher individuals to pierce through. Worst of all, the Jedi didn't know whether she held any feelings of resentment for removing a valuable companion from Aethon.

Therefore the Jedi watched the woman with a good amount of trepidation as she approached, thinking the sniper might have a parting barb. But to Revan's surprise, the sniper only held out a hand when she came near.

"Good luck back in the Order." She said with surprisingly sincerity "I think we can all use some of that in this day and age."

"There's no such thing." Said Revan, shaking her hand. "But, thanks."

After a moment's pause, he asked. "How is T'shere?"

Kynes shrugged as if to say the answer was obvious. "Bitter. Angry. Hurt. Let's not lie to ourselves. We all knew that this was the only real outcome when Mysteel decided she wanted to take her vows."

Seeing Revan's frown, she added. "Don't get me wrong. Although I think Mysteel would be better suited in Aethon, I bear her no ill will. This is something she needs to do, and I respect that."

The sniper lips twisted into a faint smirk.

"But I fully expect you to keep her alive in the coming years. Otherwise you might find your head in the center of my crosshairs."

"It's good to know that there are so many people who are just waiting to kill me." Said Revan, returning the grin. "But the Order is hardly more dangerous than life out here in the Outer Rim."

At those words, Kynes' face grew somber. "That's where you are wrong Jedi. T'shere wasn't exaggerating about the Order's fallacies. The organization _is_ a snake pit of treachery, half lies and deceit. I should know..."

Revan gave the woman a curious look at her leading remark. "I get the feeling that you are referring to something specific." He said, folding his arms.

Kynes stared at him impassively for a few moments, as if silently debating whether to reveal her hand. After a few more seconds of scrutiny, she gave a slight nod and said.

"Do you remember when I said that I had a relative in the Order?"

"Vividly," replied Revan. The Jedi had not had the recurring dream since his injury, but the memory of the woman being spliced open was not something he would soon forget.

"Well, I've been keeping my eye on her progress ever since she was inducted, mostly because I know she didn't wish to be there in the first place. And now, I have good reason to suspect she's been...tampered with. Not the same way as you, but no less disturbing."

"In what way?" asked Revan, his frown deepening.

"She..." Kynes began, but caught herself at the last moment. Shaking her head, the sniper said in a soft voice.

"No…I think that is something you need to discover for yourself because truthfully, I do not have concrete evidence. However, I can't shake the notion that something horribly has happened to her. I can just…" the woman struggled for a moment to find the correct words.

"..._feel_ it..." she finished

The sniper didn't elaborate but Revan knew that this was the closest Kynes would get to actually asking for his help."

"I'll look into it for you," the Jedi promised.

"Thank you." Said the sniper after a moment's hesitation. "But whatever happens, do not let the Masters know that you're prying around. The implications of your discovery could be...dire."

"I'll be careful."

Kynes nodded and Revan turned away, thinking that their business was done. But just as he was about to leave, the sniper reached out and touched his shoulder. The Jedi glanced at the hand then back at Kynes, who had an odd look on her face that he couldn't quite place.

"Look Revan," she said slowly "I know you think of me as cold hearted bitch, but I want you to know that I appreciate the things you did for Aethon…for the Republic. And unlike T'shere, I don't believe _all_ Jedi are self aggrandizing pricks who can't tell their anus from a hole in the wall."

"Thanks...I think." Said Revan doubtfully. Kynes favored him with another thin smile to show she was joking.

"In fact, I like to think we are parting on amicable terms." She walked closer, without removing her hand. "And who knows, perhaps in the future, we might even-"

"No." Revan said simply, and walked away.

The Jedi navigated around the crowd and eventually found Lucidae receiving a tearful farewell from his prized pupil. Revan could see from the pained expression on the Master's face that Mysteel was hugging with typical overzealous strength, squeezing her victim like she would an overgrown toy. Eventually, Lucidae managed to extricate himself from her grasp and said.

"I will miss you little one. You're absence will leave a void in all our hearts."

"Don't worry Master, I'll contact you soon." murmured Mysteel between sniffles. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on all the chaos I cause at the Order,"

After both of them shared a chuckle, the Twi'lek turned around and looked longingly towards the exit, something that did not escape Lucidae's notice.

"I'm sorry Mysteel, she isn't coming," the Master said in a gentle tone.

"I know..." Mysteel replied miserably, head drooping. "it's just that..I don't want to leave Aethon with her hating me."

"She doesn't hate you Tails." Lucidae assured her "Thalia's loss struck her harder than you know. And with these sudden change of events, your sister is terrified at the prospect of losing the rest of her family."

The Master raised the Mysteel's chin back to eye level.

"Do not worry. Your latest argument might seem dire, but it is in the nature of siblings to quarrel. But never doubt for a moment that T'shere loves you fiercely and will come around eventually."

Mysteel's gave a teary nod and squeezed her Master once again. "Promise me you'll take care of her for me Master." she whispered "Help make her be better, just like you helped me."

"Have no fear on that account little one." said Lucidae, patting Mysteel's back gently. "As her Master, I will always be there for her. Always."

Eventually, Mysteel broke the embrace and turned to the most important person to her in the room. Her sister.

The little Rutian stood miserably in a corner, crying quietly with her head down. It was clear that her grief at seeing another member of the family leave was no less than Mysteel's. As the little girl's tears fell to the cold floor, Mysteel walked up and gently took her sibling into her own arms.

"Goodbye little sister." she said softly, planting a kiss on the younger Twi'lek's forehead. "I will miss you most of all. And don't worry, I won't forget about you either. When I have a chance, I'll come back to Ryloth and visit you and the family."

The little girl's face brightened a little at the prospect. "P-promise?" she asked in a quavering voice.

"Promise." Mysteel said with a teary eyed smile. Then she brought the girl into a tight hug and whispered. "But whatever happens, remember that you have sisters that love you. And I'll be missing you every second until we meet again."

"I-I'll miss you too, Tails." managed the little girl between sniffles. The two embraced in silence after that, neither quite willing to end the moment.

"You know," Revan said eventually, breaking the heartfelt moment. "Thalia never did give her a proper name,"

The little girl turned her head the speaker and squeaked indignantly. "I have a name! I'm Mission!"

Mysteel smiled sadly. "That's right Rev. Didn't you know? Her name is Mission Vao."

Revan glanced doubtfully at the girl. He didn't think that wasn't much of a name, but he supposed stranger things have happened in the galaxy. "Well...far be it for me to argue the point,"

Revan left the two to finish their goodbye and turned to the man that had changed his life in so many ways. Lucidae might have been a traitor in the eyes of the council, but to Revan, he was the man that that had renewed his hope in the Order. For as cutthroat and treacherous as many men and women could be, there were still those that had courage and honor, even if the rest of the Council didn't recognize it. Therefore, when Lucidae lifted his hand out for a traditional Jedi salute, Revan gladly grasped the other man's arm.

"Safe journey Revan." Lucidae said sincerely. "I can rest much easier now, knowing that there are Jedi like you guarding the Republic."

"The Outer Rim is in good hands." Revan replied with a nod. "And remember. If you discover any unusual activity, Mandalorian, Sith or otherwise..."

"I promise you will be the first to know," Lucidae assured him. The Master then tipped his head as a gesture of respect for all the Jedi had done. "Bring back honor to the Order my friend and help them to be mighty again. I have a feeling that the Republic will be needing their finest warriors very soon."

Revan dipped his head in a bow as well. "I promise,"

There was nothing more to be said. With a final nod for Mysteel that it was time to leave, Revan started walking to the _Deliverance's_ boarding ramp. But as soon had he taken his first steps onto the stairs, the Jedi felt a slight tug on his robes. Revan looked down and saw Mysteel's little sister staring up at him with her curious dark eyes.

In a very shy voice, Mission said. "Bye Revan. Th-thank you for saving me."

Revan gave the girl a faint smile and said. "You're welcome...Mission."

* * *

The trip back into the core worlds was direct and uneventful, exactly what Revan had hoped for. When the _Deliverance _firstbroke through Coruscant's outer atmosphere and made planetfall, Mysteel let put a gasp of wonder and joy. Revan didn't need to turn from his controls to see why. The heart of the Republic space was famed far and wide for its soaring skyscrapers and bustling traffic, a planet with a single unified metropolis that spanned the entirety of Coruscant's surface. Everywhere one looked, new wonders and curiosities could be seen. Majestic spires of marble, the daunting walls of the Senate, the seedy nightlife district...all were in prominent display for newcomers to see. And as this was Mysteel's first foray into the Core Worlds, the Twi'lek lapped the scenery up with gusto. She pestered Revan with a plethora of annoying questions, mostly along the lines of "Oooh, what's that?" or is "Is that a mall? Can we go shopping?"

Revan answered half heartedly, less interested in sightseeing than getting to their ultimate destination. Even though he had technically fulfilled his mission of penitence, the Jedi didn't know what to expect as he took his first steps into the temple. Would he be scorned, questioned, perhaps even barred from entry?

_What will I say to Alek when I go back? And what if the Masters-_

His thoughts were interrupted as his overexcited companion jumped into the passenger seat beside him.

"So," Mysteel asked him in a playful tone. "what's the age of consent in the Order?" The Twi'lek complimented her question by crossing her legs and twirling one of her tentacles.

"Never," replied Revan in a deadpan voice, never taking his eyes off the view screen. Mysteel's expression melted from playful curiosity into one of pure horror.

_"W-W-W-What?"_ The Twi'lek fumbled several times in an attempt to express her outrage, which would have been comical had anyone been actually looking at her.

"Everyone knows that Jedi take vows of chastity Mysteel." Replied Revan, more to stop her stuttering than to provide any meaningful input. However, that only seemed to galvanize the Twi'lek even more.

"That's absurd!" Mysteel huffed. "T'shere told me that she used to get more tail..."

Her line of reasoning was abruptly silenced when Revan shot her a _'are you kidding me?_' look.

"Oh right, the whole expelling thing..." Mysteel muttered, tentacles drooping. After looking disconsolate for a moment, the Twi'lek announced in a cheerful voice.

"Oh well, I guess I'll need to find...alternate means to relieve stress."

Revan sighed. He had to give it her. The girl was never to be defeated by such trivial obstacles such as logic or the laws of physics. After a moment of musing, Mysteel took out her lightsaber and gave it a thoughtful look.

"Hmmmm..."

Revan shot her a disgusted look. "I'm pretty sure what you're thinking of is a crime."

Mysteel looked like she was about to burst into tears. "But Rev..." she whined "what I'm thinking of is a _victimless_ crime."

Revan palmed his face into his hands.

* * *

"I'm just saying," Mysteel complained for what seemed like the hundredth time, "don't you think it's wrong that someone as hot as me hasn't gotten properly laid yet?"

Revan resisted the urge to grab Mysteel's lightsaber and impale his eardrums. The Twi'lek had been bemoaning her fate of eternal celibacy ever since they left the ship and made their up the stairs to the Jedi temple. For some reason, the girl seemed adamant that getting laid had to take priority before taking her vows, and it was giving him a severe headache. To further his irritation Revan noticed a few pedestrians giving them odd looks from time to time as they snatched pieces of their conversation.

"Chastity is a virtue," Revan replied curtly, hurrying Mysteel out of earshot from the nosy people. "You'll learn to live with it."

"Oh, you're just like Lucidae." complained Mysteel. "Both of you sound like a pair of dull old codgers, but at least he has an excuse!" The Twi'lek stopped walking and waggled a finger under Revan's nose. "You know what they say, don't you?" she said slyly. "If you don't use your equipment often enough, sooner or later, it'll misfire."

"Please stop talking." Revan said, putting his hands up in exasperation before starting a brisk pace to escape. "No more metaphors, please."

"Rev, I don't think you understand just how big a crime it is for a bod like mine to go to waste," Mysteel whined as she followed, oblivious to her companion's pleas. "I mean, can you imagine how many guys and gals back in Aethon would have paid to have some fun time with me, if Lucidae let them? Can you imagine the sheer amount of sperm wasted? I mean, it probably could have filled a _lake_! I-"

Revan was spared any further torment when the Twi'lek's jaw dropped as she caught sight of the monument in front of them.

Before them stood the gates of the Jedi temple, the crowning jewel of Coruscant. The structure immediately brought a sense of immenseness, with its vast soaring pillars and mighty ramparts. Each piece of marble, every brick of stone was lovingly carved and painstakingly polished into a pearly white sheen. Some conservative elements of the Order disdained the grandeur of the temple as a symbol of pride and self aggrandizement, but nothing could be further from the truth. The temple was a testament to the resilience and enduring strength of the Jedi, a symbol of what people could achieve once reunited.

"It's so beautiful..." murmured the Twi'lek, staring dreamily at the one place she always wished to see. And who could blame her? The sight of the magnificent structure would take any person's breath away. But for Revan...to be back home, the one place he thought he would never return finally proved too much. Tears began to fall unabashedly from his face, like the relief of being reunited with a long lost love.

"Are you...crying?" asked Mysteel in a surprised voice when she noticed her companion's face.

"Yes." said Revan without apology.

"Huh, and I thought my periods were bad." said the Twi'lek with a giggle.

Before Revan could form a witty retort, a familiar voice shook him to his very core.

"Revan! Is that you?"

The Jedi whipped his head to the side and to his surprise and joy, found himself looking at one of his closest friends.

"Exon" Revan breathed. "It is-"

The large man didn't give him a chance to reply. Exon rushed up and crushed Revan in a bear hug with his tree like arms, arms that could snap a man's neck in two with nary a thought. Revan tried to laugh, but the air was had been blasted out of is lungs, Eventually, the Jedi managed to pull himself free from the giant man's hug.

"It is good to see you my friend." He finished in a breathless voice,

"Aye likewise." Replied Exon, who was still grinning from ear to ear. The tall man gave his friend a cursory inspection as he pushed him back to arm's length.

"I must say, you look different though. Force I hardly recognized you with such long hair!"

"It keeps my head warm," Revan deadpanned and the two men shared another laugh.

"Can I infer that your presence here means your exile is at an end?" asked Exon when the mirth had died down.

"It is." Revan affirmed. "I have completed my mission of repentance, and am ready to rejoin my brothers in their struggles."

"That is good to hear." Exon replied with a slap to his shoulder. "I look forward to hearing about all your exploits in the Outer Rim. You have no idea how dreadfully dull it has been cooped up in a cell, with nothing to do but meditate."

"In retrospect, I believe the Masters were kind to me during the sentencing." Revan mused, drawing another chuckle from his companion. Their happy reunion was interrupted by an exaggerated coughing sound. Revan glanced back at Mysteel who was giving him a very pointed 'are you going to introduce me?' look.

Revan took a deep breath and said. "But I'm forgetting myself. Exon I'd like you to meet-"

The Jedi's introduction was abruptly cut off when the Twi'lek walked in front of him and _hugged_ Exon, her arms barely managing to wrap around the man's massive waist.

"Hi, I'm Mysteel!" said the girl cheerfully, to her surprised target "I was Revan's partner in crime when he in the Outer Rim. And now I'm here at the temple to take my vows as a Jedi Knight."

Exon looked down at the Twi'lek in alarm, plainly confused by the queer female's behavior. Revan resisted the urge to laugh at the comical scene of a giant man being hugged by someone half his weight. Seeing his bewildered expression Mysteel said.

"What? You hugged him. I thought that was how Jedi greeted each other."

The Twi'lek turned and gave Revan a conspiratual wink.

"and I can tell he's really happy to meet me,"

Exon abruptly disengaged from the hug, his face reddening like a summer apple.

"That's-that's just my lightsaber!" He stuttered.

"Oh, I bet it is!" replied Mysteel lewdly.

Revan smiled inwardly as he watched the exchange between the polar opposites. He also noticed that a couple of Jedi had stopped their activities and were watching the three with curious expressions.

_Better stop this before we draw a crowd. _

The Jedi was about to help his beleaguered friend when he heard a familiar shuffling sound behind him. It was a sound that he had hope and dreaded to hear for many weeks. After taking a deep breath, he turned around and saw...

"Master Vandar..." Revan said softly, his voice was barely above a whisker of a whisper.

"Revan." replied the venerable Master. Vandar's features were that of a old oak, gnarled and wizened. Age and the burden of his office had deepened the lines on his ancient looking face. Yet the diminutive mentor's smile was genuine when he beheld his greatest pupil.

"I prayed for the day we would meet again."

Revan tried to speak but the words became ashes in his mouth. A tumult of emotions threatened to overwhelm him at that moment. Joy, relief, bitterness and confusion all welled up in the Jedi's heart at seeing the person that had once been one of his closest confidants. Revan found himself going to one knee like he did when Vandar first anointed him a Jedi Knight. But try as he might, the words would not come. Only tears.

Fortunately for Revan, Mysteel relieved him of the necessity to form a coherent response. Upon noticing the new arrival talking to her companion, the Twi'lek proceeded to rush up to the diminutive Master with sparkling eyes.

"Oooh what an adorable little Jedi!" she gushed. Vandar and Revan looked up in surprise at the interruption. Then to everyone's horror, Mysteel scooped Vandar into her arms and proceeded to hug him like he was some sort of toddler.

"Are you one of the younglings?" she asked her newfound toy. "Of course you are! I know he and I are going to be best friends!"

"Mysteel, put him down!" gasped Revan askance. He and Exon tried to extricate the beleaguered Master out of the girl's grasp but to little effect. "That's a Master of the Order!"

"Oh don't be silly Rev." giggled Mysteel as she protected her tiny prize. "How can someone so small be a Master? Look at him, so cute with those big eyes and those floppy ears! I know! I shall call you Mr Floppy!"

After a few seconds of cat and mouse, the pair managed to pull Vandar out of Mysteel's playful hands.

"Well, that was certainly...interesting." said Vandar as he was gently set down by his rescuers. His clothing was rumpled from all the jostling he had endured, but to Revan's relief, the old Master did not look any worse for wear.

"Master Vandar, are you all right?" asked Exon in a worried voice.

"Oh I'm fine." Said Vandar with a winded smile. "Better perhaps. I think she realigned my hip."

"Vandar?" echoed Mysteel, her face gradually registering recognition at the name. "Oh...you were being serious. I guess that explains why he was so wrinkly."

Everyone was too stunned or horrified to reply. Most of the bystander's had become slackjawed at the Twi'lek's blatant disregard for protocol. While Vandar smoothed out his robes, Exon was giving Revan a stare that said: _What have you done?_

Revan palmed his face into both hands again. _This definitely wasn't how I envisioned coming back._

"So..." said Mysteel to Vandar, breaking the awkward silence. The Twi'lek's tentacles were curled sheepishly in apology. "Did I make a good first impression?"

* * *

"I'm sorry for that debacle Master." Revan said in an apologetic tone after he and Vandar were alone. The pair walked at a leisurely pace within the temple's familiar halls as they talked. Revan had told Exon to give Mysteel a tour around the temple grounds while he and the good Master caught up on business. Although in truth, he had essentially left the man to fend for himself in a hopeless battle.

"Don't worry about it Revan." Vandar assured him with a tired smile. "Lucidae warned me that his pupil could be...boisterous. What matters is that you have returned to us, cleansed of any taint to your name."

The venerable Master shuffled at a snail's pace and Revan had to make sure not to outdistance him. He noted with some concern that the Master seemed much older than when he last saw him, although Vandar had always looked ancient. The Jedi liked to think it was because Vandar was worried for him, but more likely it was weariness from handling the political intricacies with the Senate and fellow Council Members. The upper echelons of the Order was a viper pit after all...

"I will not lie Revan..." continued Vandar. "When you left the temple gates with that... thing, I feared I'd seen the last of you."

"I felt the same way," said Revan quietly.

"I know I've told you this, but it was not my wish to subject you to exile. The Watcher demanded it, and his word is law amongst the council." Vandar's large ears dropped lower as he confessed.

"I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive our decision, to forgive me for...everything."

Revan stopped walking and studied his mentor in silence for a long moment. The Master's face was downcast and infinitely weary, as if the burden of the entire galaxy was on his tiny shoulders. The Jedi knew that behind that leathered demeanor lay an untold number of secrets and lies. But everyone had secrets...and while Revan would never fully trust him or the council again, he found that he did _miss_ Vandar, at least enough so they could move on from the unpleasantness. Therefore, it was with a light heart that Revan knelt to one knee and placed a hand on Vandar's shoulder.

"I do Master." he said with a smile "I felt lost and alone for a while in the Outer Rim, I admit. But my time in exile has made me stronger. I saw things there that defied description, things that horrified and inspired with equal intensity. And most importantly of all, I finally understood what it meant to be a Jedi Knight."

With those words, the Master's careworn face brightened considerably.

"You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that." the Master said with genuine relief.

"If I had it my way, I'd make you a damn Master for all the services you've rendered."

Revan laughed. Try as he might, he could not see himself in such a confined position.

"Not a title I would relish Master. My place is out there in the battlefield, where I can meet the enemy head on. I would sooner not be confined to a library, or prattling to a group of children. Can you imagine me as role model?"

The pair shared a laugh. After it died down, Revan added.

"The irony is that it took another outcast to lead me back to the true path."

"Ah yes...Lucidae." Vandar grew solemn at the mention of the man. "From what I have gleaned in our mutual friend's message, you're time in the Outer Rim has been well spent." the Master commented. The Master started shuffling forward again as he spoke.

"Apparently, you and his allies managed to thwart a massive bioweapon from being unleashed as well as eliminating a dangerous enemy."

"Malleus," confirmed Revan grimly. "A legacy from a bygone age. I will give you a full report on what I learnt of him and his ilk in due time."

As they walked, Revan turned his head to the distance, watching the bustle of Coruscant's citizens as they went on with their lives, completely oblivious to the horrors that lurked in the coldest reaches of the galaxy.

"I will not lie to you Master Vandar." the Jedi said after a moment's pause. "The situation in the Outer Rim is grim. Aethon and I only barely managed to prevent that madman and his twisted minions from unleashing devastation onto the galaxy. And even though he is dead, Lucidae has reason to believe that there are many of these so called 'Reborn' still out there, ready to take up Ajunta Pall's nefarious schemes."

"That is very worrying indeed." said Vandar in a concerned voice.

"It gets worse." replied Revan grimly. "Malleus warned me that the Republic's enemies are amassing. Mandalorians, Sith...they have sensed our weakness and are on the verge of spilling out from their wretched holes to feed on carrion."

"I believe you Revan." The Master's weathered face looked grim in light of these dire tidings. "And I regret that we didn't take earlier actions to prevent this when you first reported activity on Chiron."

He gave a sigh and held up his empty hands.

"But truthfully, the Jedi can do very little. We are stretched painfully thin as it is, keeping a veneer of civility within the galactic core. I fear that any warriors we send to hunt the Mandalorians and Sith would only be destroyed piecemeal."

"The time to act is now Master Vandar." Revan said sternly. "Our numbers may be depleted, but unless we do something to thwart our enemies, the galaxy will burn. We _must_ act to thwart them from devastating our realm before their numbers overwhelm us."

"I agree." the tiny Master said with a nod. "That is why I need you Revan, my strong right arm. To help me on missions to do just that."

Revan knelt back to one knee and said. "I am ready Master. Task me."

"I have no doubt about that." Vandar said, looking at his prodigal knight with pride. He placed a hand on the Jedi's shoulder much like the younger one had earlier. "But before we work on those specifics, I believe you have something to give me regarding our new friend."

* * *

"Mysteel." Revan called out, knocking on the door for the third time. "Hurry up, you're going to be late for your own ceremony."

The Jedi could hardly even believe the words as he said it.

_This was actually happening. Mysteel will become a Jedi Knight..._

After Revan had finished talking with Vandar and handed him Lucidae's message, the Master had convened a special session with his fellow Masters on the matter of the Twi'lek. The meeting was surprisingly brief, and from what Master Vandar had told him, the votes to reinstate him and accept to Mysteel as a new addition into the Jedi Order had been unanimous. Even more surprising to Revan was that the fact that the Masters had decided to waive the requirement to test Mysteel in trials, and go straight to her inaugural ceremony.

Revan wanted to ask Vandar what Lucidae could have possibly said in his data pad that had convinced the Council to break so many protocols, but decided it was a question for another day. Now he had a new member to welcome into the Order.

"Mysteel," Revan called out knocking on the door again. No answer.

With a sigh, the Jedi pressed an automatic override into the keypad and entered Mysteel's chamber. Like most of the Jedi's living quarters, the cell was small and spartan, with only the barest essentials provided for its occupant. Unlike the other chambers though, this one was filled with clothes...lots and lots of clothes.

_Its like a temple dedicated to bad taste. _Revan though, staring at the mountain of garish colored clothing and shoes. The Jedi broke off his inspection when he heard the sound of humming from the adjacent room. Walking to the source of the sound, Revan found the target of his search. Mysteel was surrounded by an even larger mountain of colorful clothing, splayed across the room like tacky wallpaper.

The Twi'lek was also half naked, holding up several items of clothing to her chest while staring in front of a large mirror. From time to time she would toss several articles and away before grabbing another stray item from the floor, trying to find the combination that she liked the best.

"Hmm, I like this top. But it doesn't really go with these brown robes." Mysteel mused with a sigh, "Ah, who am I kidding, nothing goes with these robes. Why can't the Jedi have better taste in clothing?"

"If you're quite done?"

Mysteel yelped in surprise at the unexpected noise. She instinctively grabbed a nearby mug and threw it at her unexpected guest. Revan sidestepped nimbly, letting the projectile explode harmlessly against the wall.

"Rev! Mysteel said in mock outrage once she recognized the intruder. The Twi'lek covered her body, albeit half heartedly. "A gentlemen knocks before entering a lady's room!"

"I did. Thrice." Revan replied, keeping his eyes glued firmly at the floor.

"Oh sure you did." said Mysteel in a huffy voice. As the Twi'lek started picking up the junk around the floor, she asked "Well, you didn't see anything..._inappropriate_, did you?"

"No."

"Oh..." The Twi'lek almost sounded disappointed.

"Did you want to?" she asked after a moment's pause, a mischievous light sparkling in her eye.

"Just hurry up. We're going to be late and the Masters are not people for waiting." said Revan, ignoring the question. Mysteel stuck out her tongue but grabbed her ceremonial robes lying across the bed and slipped out of the room. Revan called out hastily for Mysteel to finish dressing but to little avail, so he walked out with her. A few of the initiates in the immediate vicinity gawked at the half naked Twi'lek as she half walked, half dressed herself down the temple hallway.

"Do you remember all the lines you need to say during the ceremony?" Revan whispered, trying not to make eye contact with any of the people ogling them.

"Of course, I've known them since I was a little girl." Mysteel replied with exaggerated indignity, hastily tying her roughspun robes to her waist, "Lucidae used to say them to me every night, kind of like a lullaby. I probably could recite them in my sleep."

"Just remember. The Masters are a prickly lot." Revan warned "Recite them to the letter during the rituals. Don't do anything to piss them off"

"Oh Rev, you worry too much." Mysteel pouted. "I'll be fine. I mean, what could go wrong when I've got _you_ backing me up during the ceremony?"

"The council hates me."

"But they're going to love me!" she replied in a cheerful voice. "In fact, I've got some awesome ideas I wanted to propose to them on how to get the Jedi recruitment quota up in the next few months."

"Oh really..." Revan said doubtfully.

"Yep!" said Mysteel, totally oblivious to the Jedi's worried tone. "First of all, we need to remove the dress code. I mean look at these boring brown robes. They're itchy and looks like someone dyed them in vomit."

The Twi'lek stopped her rapid pace for a moment and adjusted the rough material around her butt while giving Revan a rueful look.

"Uggh, I think I've already gotten a rash. Jedi should be allowed to wear whatever they want. In fact, I'd suggest we get rid of clothing completely and do everything naked."

Revan resisted the urge to palm his head again, something he realized he was doing with much more frequency the past few days.

"Mysteel..." he said slowly, but the Twi'lek shushed him.

"I know what you're thinking, but my plan has practical applications as well. I mean, armor would just slow us down. And if all of us fought naked, our opponents would be too busy looking at our fun parts to pose any threat. We could just walk up to them and cut them into ribbons. Brilliant right?"

"Mysteel..." Revan tried to interject, but the Twi'lek simply continued to ramble on.

"And another thing that needs to go is the how celibacy rule. Everybody needs to let off steam sometime. If the Order reversed their policy so everybody got laid once in a while, we'd replenish our numbers in no time! I can see the slogan right now, a great new age heralded by a tide of sperm-"

Revan finally caught the Mysteel's attention by clasping the Twi'lek's shoulder and spinning her around.

"Hey..." he said.

"Yes Revan?" Mysteel asked sweetly.

The Jedi was about to rebuke her for all the outrageous suggestions but stopped at the last moment. So what if she didn't fit into the image of what a stereotypical Jedi was supposed to be? Revan _knew_ she wasn't going to fit the mould when he chose her to join. But that didn't mean she wouldn't be a great Jedi Knight. Loyalty, courage and discipline didn't necessarily mean one had to become a closeted stuffy preacher of sermons, As outrageous as Mysteel could come off, it was that free spirit that defined her. What made her great.

So in the end, the only thing that Revan said was.

"Don't ever change."

Mysteel laughed and said.

"Right back at ya Rev."

* * *

_Epilogue_

Deep within the bowels of a forgotten hellhole, someone was strapped to a surgery table screaming.

It was a pure unadulterated sound of agony, a one man orchestra of anguish and despair. Which was a remarkable feat in itself, for his face was little more than a thick slurry of writhing flesh, with only a wet hole where his mouth used to be.

The conductor was unmoved by the exquisite music it was creating, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. The glare from the operating lights rendered the surgeon gaunt, spectral and menacing. And if one were to look closer, they would have noticed his hands were not even made of flesh at all. Fingers as thin as needles moved in a precise ballet of sinuous motion, weaving strands of tendon and muscle to form a complex pattern of flesh over bleached bone. What had been a chaotic mess of sinewy meat gradually took form into something that was recognizably a nose…then cheeks…then lips. Like a clay mould, the surgeon was bringing definition from nothingness, bit by agonizing bit.

No ordinary man could have performed such a miracle of artwork and engineering…and indeed, it was no man that actually conducted the surgery as his audience could attest.

"How much longer will this take Fleshsmith?" came a cold voice from behind the hulking surgeon.

"Patience my friend, patience." Replied the surgeon, his voice rendered almost unintelligible by thick static. "This process cannot be rushed. You do want the resemblance to be exact, do you not?"

"Yes, but I have other procedures I need to perform on this sack of flesh, with little time to spare." Growled the other man, every syllable a hissing lisp.

"Already, I have sacrificed too many subjects on this endeavor and this…_wastrel_ was the only one that survived the preliminary stages of my testing. I will not tolerate any more delays."

The surgeon let out a noise that approximated a sigh and turned its metallic waist around one hundred and eighty degrees.

"You have no appreciation for the finer arts Raithe. A true artist doesn't simply carve form and beauty into a sculpture. They nurture it… get the stone show its true form and beauty. So it is with flesh."

The Fleshsmith could tell that the man known as Raithe was not impressed by the rhetoric.

"Results, not excuses Fleshsmith."

"As you wish. A few more minutes." Replied the Fleshsmith, returning to his duties. The metallic being resumed piecing the individual strands of tendon and meat together with blurring speed, the movements pre-programmed by its logic engines to replicate the desired subject. While the vile machine conducted its ministrations, one of its slave droids sprayed a sickly looking liquid over the subject's raw meat, which quickly coalesced into synthetic skin.

The patient felt every moment of course. Every nerve in his face lit on fire as it came in contact with cold steel and burning acid. The muscles on the patient's body were chorded like steel in an attempt to break free of his shackles, but to no avail. And the pain...The agony that the trapped man felt was something that defied description and he wished with every fiber of his being for release. But it never came…and the best he could do was continue screaming in his high reed voice.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Fleshsmith finally retracted his needles and rolled back to admire its handiwork.

"There, the sculpting is complete." Said the thing in a self satisfied voice. "What do you think professor?"

Raithe strode up to the operating table and stared down at his prize with black viperous eyes. After a moment's inspection, the muscles around the corners of his mouth twisted into a leering smile.

"I must say, you have outdone yourself Fleshsmith. The likeliness is uncanny."

"Of course it is. How could I do any less?" replied the gaunt form.

"What do you think Vanaerys?" asked Raithe without looking back to the shadows where his bodyguard stood like an upright corpse.

"Does this thing not look like a perfect simulacrum of that which I hate the most?"

"Yes my Lord," whispered the tortured woman, her dead grey eyes staring straight into space.

"So…" said the Fleshsmith after Raithe continued to stare at the patient for an uncomfortable amount of time. "What do you intend to do with this piece of meat professor?"

At the question, the Fleshsmith's companion snapped his head up with a feral expression.

"Oh I have a great deal planned for him my friend. A great deal." The man said in a wet growl "He shall be my instrument to wreak bloody havoc on my foes. Especially _him_."

Raithe tilted his head down again and gave the new formed face a hungry look.

"Isn't that right...Revan?"

The thing on the table said nothing, but his twin black eyes locked on Raithe in an unblinking stare.

And they _hated_.

* * *

_Author's note: Well...this story was a bitch to write. _

_When I first started the Forgotten, I didn't think it would explode into such a large piece of writing. But the story elements got more complicated and eventually went beyond my projected size. Truthfully, there were times when I just thought of throwing in the towel after so many plot threads, but decided to stick with it in no small part to the encouragement from my readers. So thanks for that. Really appreciate the feedback I get._

_I know I ended this story on a cliffhanger with new issues, but in honesty, this will be my last story. Things have been getting progressively more busy and I have had less and less time to write. I simply can't do another blockbuster story and keep up with everything else. But at least I finished this one so that's a small comfort to me._

_So let's see, I want to thank all my readers and those that gave me feedback. A few deserve special recognition. Jedirevan lord of sith, thanks mate for all the support you've given me. You were definitely the guy that kept me going. Without your feedback, I would definitely have quit halfway. Thank to 6tailedninja. You've been with my stories since the very beginning and I appreciate you for sticking with me all the way. And thanks to LucifferBG for all the Star Wars lore and general technical information you provided to me. My story would be a lot more poorer without your help._

_Lastly, thanks to all the readers and people who posted reviews. It was a great ride, but I'm going to end it here. All the best to you all and Happy New Year. _

_PS. I do have another piece of new art on my deviantart page. Check it out if you have time and see if you can tell who it is. If enough people recognize the person, I'll post a concept art for Kynes that has never been seen =)._


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